After Paris
by Wyndhamfan
Summary: Chuck hides the truth about what happened to him in Prague but when he suffers complications from his gunshot wound, the UES gang - especially Blair - are forced to deal with their tangled, complicated lives. Post 3x22 - spoiler free.
1. Prologue

**After Paris**

By Wyndhamfan

**Summary: **The Upper East Side gang put aside their differences when one of their own is in danger. My interpretation of what happens after 3x22, and it ain't pretty.

**Notes: **This is my first Gossip Girl fanfic. What I enjoy from the show is the unique relationships in them - the friendships, the romantic ties and most of all family. So you'll see all of them here. I'm quite partial to C/B, so you'll get that here too - though I'm not much of a shipper fanfic writer; I like writing about characters, not about whether they'll be together or not with me. Nevertheless, I do hope you enjoy this tale and tell me what you think about it. Also, PS, I write in British English, so you'll see the odd spelling here and there; though I do try to keep the Americanisms intact :)

**Prologue**

Nathaniel Archibald hated formal functions, and disliked wearing the prerequisite suits that came along with them. But he especially detested attending these soirees when he wasn't speaking to his best friend or, to be more accurate, his core social circle, which included his ex-girlfriend _and _her best friend who also happened to be his ex-girlfriend. Though, he wasn't exactly sure why he wasn't on talking terms with Blair – it was just that one fight where he defended Chuck and Blair took that as a sign as a shift of allegiance. It was annoyingly high school.

And since fate and Nathaniel Archibald had a rather ironic relationship since back when, who else but Serena and Blair would get into the elevator at the Plaza Hotel when it opened its doors at the lobby.

Blair placed a bejeweled hand on her right hip and sighed heavily. "Great. First Serena. Now you?"

Right. Blair and Serena were having one of their fights. Though he thought that they made up a few days ago. Perhaps Gossip Girl got it wrong this time. Whatever. He couldn't keep up with their relationship cycles.

"And a 'hello' to you too," he drawled, clicking on the close button impatiently.

"Clicking on that button is not going to make the elevator go any faster, Nate," said Serena.

"Wasn't saying anything to you, _Serena_," he said. It was childish, but he wasn't feeling particularly mature tonight.

Serena rolled her eyes.

"And why are you heading to the Bass-cave tonight?" Blair said.

Yes, indeed. Just why was he heading to Chuck's penthouse? After all, he was still pissed off about finding out about him and Jenny two days ago, and yesterday they had a terse conversation which ended with him storming away from Chuck who only offered, "What can I say Nathaniel? It happened. I can't give her cherry back."

It was so crass, so Chuck, that he should have expected it, but he felt his blood boil anyway. But something in Chuck's eyes stopped him from giving him a black eye he so richly deserved. And he realised then that Chuck hadn't meant it, and that he had said it so that Nate would get angry with him. It was one of Chuck's crazy mind games; Nate didn't get it, and he didn't want to play, so he left.

But he was here now because he realised that he was a fucking hypocrite who had no right to judge Chuck for being an utter idiot when heartbroken. And he was also here because there was an alarm ringing persistently inside of him, warning him that not all is right with Chuck Bass. And despite how annoyed he was with him, he just couldn't ignore that.

Since returning from whatever European destination he had been holing in for the whole summer, Chuck has not been himself. Oh, he tried to put up a good front – and by that being his old, irreverent and uncaring self – but he got progressively bad at it as the weeks went by.

Still, Nate didn't ask Chuck why he ended up returning from Paris with, of all people, Serena and Blair, or most importantly, why he went "offline" in summer, only to resurface with a few text messages to him and Lily around August. He thought Chuck would inevitably unburden himself to him as he usually did in due time.

But it never came. Instead, Chuck became more and more withdrawn; he became, as Gossip Girl coined it, the "hermit of the Plaza". If not for Lily, who planned a series of galas and parties to welcome him back, not many in New York would know that Chuck Bass was in town. Chuck was like this once before – the dark days after Bart Bass died – and Nate wasn't sure if Chuck could survive another round of self destruction.

"I should be the one asking you this, Blair," he finally said.

"I'm here because Serena insisted that we make a pit stop at the Plaza to _remind _Chuck that he has a gala to attend. And, might I remind you, S, we have something called cell phones to do that."

The excuse was flimsy, and they all knew it. Nobody made Queen B do _anything_. Not even Serena. Blair tried hard to look like she didn't care, but Nate could see the turmoil and concern written all over her body – the tense shoulders, the way she kept fidgeting with her hands.

Serena flung her hands upwards in frustration. "And how many times have I told you that he wasn't answering his calls?"

"That's his MO, S. When he broods, he ignores. Just leave him a message already," she said.

But when the lift doors opened, Blair was the first to go through its doors. She hesitated in front of the door of the suite, however. She turned around and gave Serena a haughty look.

"If he's with one of his $1 women, I'm not going to forgive you for exposing my eyes to them," she said bitingly.

He rolled his eyes, stepped past her, and knocked on the door.

No response.

"Chuck, open up. I know you're in there – the front desk said that you didn't leave all day."

No answer.

He was getting worried.

Serena rapped her knuckles on the door. "Chuck? Open up!"

She sounded … frightened. More anxious than she should be … he frowned. Serena had been behaving weird lately – spending all that time with Chuck when she couldn't stand to be more than a few hours with him before. He thought it was her sisterly instincts kicking in, but this was something more.

He tried the doorknob, and to his surprise, it opened.

Serena pushed ahead of them hastily, calling Chuck's name. She turned left – presumably to Chuck's room. Blair followed quickly after her.

It was quiet. Not a sound, not even the tell-tale sounds of a living being, except for the too-loud steps of his breathing. He felt his heart picking up speed. This stillness … it didn't go with Chuck Bass. Chuck was always doing something, moving, making some kind of commotion.

Somehow, perhaps it was instinct, he made his way to the guest room on the far right of the suite. The door was partially open, and he pushed it open slowly.

He wasn't sure what to make out of it at first. But when he realised what he was seeing, he felt his blood turning cold. And he froze, just froze.

They say you will know what kind of person you are when you're faced with the direst situation possible, and Nate realised then that he was a person who just _stopped _when confronted with something his mind couldn't handle.

So, he was still staring when Blair appeared at his side.

"There you are. Chuck's not in his room. What are you staring at?" she asked, annoyed.

Then her eyes shifted to the bed, and she went still.

"Chuck?" she whispered. Then, her voice rose in fear. "_Chuck_?"


	2. Chapter 1

Note: Thank you for the reviews. Keep them coming! Here's the new chapter – warning, it's kinda angsty. Oh, who am I kidding? It's swimming, soaking in angst. Hope that's your cup of tea. ;)

**Chapter One**

She wasn't used to seeing him this way. Even she, the one who had seen him at his most vulnerable, had not seen him so debilitated. And she didn't know what to do.

She held his hand, hoping that it would comfort him, and lay a shaking hand to his hot-as-fire forehead. But he wouldn't, or couldn't be comforted. He twisted away from the hand she had placed on his sweaty forehead like it scalded him.

"No!" he cried out weakly, his voice wavering in agitation.

She lost hold of his hand as he jerked it away, as if warding off an attack.

"Shh," she whispered helplessly, reaching for the wet cloth by his bedside with a trembling hand. She dabbed the cloth on his flushed face, hoping that it could somehow calm him down. It seemed to work for a while. He stopped moving, his chest rising and falling quickly, his breathing a harsh rasp.

She blinked away frightened tears and quickly dipped the cloth into the bowl of water on the bedside table and proceeded to dab the area around his neck. She didn't know if this could help cool his high fever, but it seemed to soothe him in some tiny way.

When he started to tremble, Blair froze, not knowing if the cool cloth was the cause of it. Then, throwing the cloth to the bedside table, she quickly pulled the quilt to his chin and gripped his hand.

But Chuck just moaned weakly, his grey lips parting to let out a wheezy breath.

"Stop ..." he whispered. Then shuddered.

"Shh," she said, her voice trembling.

She looked at the wide open doorway. Oh God, what's taking them so long?

They were unprepared. At least, she and Nate were. She found Nate standing frozen at the entrance to Chuck's room, his blue eyes wide with shock. Blair had then marched determinedly to his side to haul him away from the suite. When she found Chuck's room empty with Serena, she was mad that she had caved in to her inner softie despite knowing better and had fallen for one of Chuck's dramatics. _Again_.

But then, she saw what Nate was staring at – Chuck in bed, twisting and turning restlessly, moaning gibberish.

She didn't know what to make of it at first, and thought that he was in the middle of some high. Then she saw that he couldn't breathe well, and that his skin was so white it seemed translucent, and she realised that this was something else. Something horribly, horribly wrong.

"He was fine yesterday, fine," Nate kept mumbling to himself.

They didn't even realise that Serena had come into the room and was saying a bunch of things to them. What happened? How long has he been like this? Questions both of them had no answers to.

Serena forcibly pulled Nate away from the door then, yelling at him to get something. Blair wasn't sure what. They left her alone with Chuck, who didn't seem to even realise that she was there. She didn't know how long she stood there staring at him in shock before she ran to the kitchen to get some water. By then, she was shaking so hard she could barely get water into a bowl.

Serena wasn't shocked, however. She seemed _prepared, _seeing how calm and collected she was, calling 911 and some doctor on her cell phone_._ Hell, Blair had a strong feeling that she_ knew _why Chuck was so sick. Another secret, S? She had to talk to that bitch right after this.

If there's an "after this". She couldn't, wouldn't, imagine Chuck...

_Stop thinking, Waldorf._

Chuck coughed weakly, and reality immediately intruded. His cough ended in wheezing, laboured breaths that sharpened her anxiety. He tossed restlessly.

"Chuck … Chuck, it's me, Blair," she whispered as she stroked his forehead. His hair lay in limp, sweaty tangles around his face, and he was so white … as if the blood had leeched out of him.

Chuck didn't answer. He stopped moving, his breaths coming in short, quick pants.

How long has he been lying there, battling this fever? If not for Serena, who suddenly decided that she should check on Chuck, he probably would have lain there for hours more. What if Serena never made that choice? Would he have survived a few more hours? The thought made her shiver.

The respite was brief. Chuck began moving again, moaning in a weak, breathy voice.

He was in pain, she realised. She fought hard to push the panic away.

Oh God, what should she do?

Seeing him like this, so unlike himself, so _sick, _made all their quarrels, heart breaks, games … look so petty and insignificant. And at that moment, she was struck and consumed by the realisation that she couldn't lose him. He couldn't die, not like this, with her last words to him a promise to never see him again, because a part of her would die with him.

He suddenly went still, and Blair's heart nearly stopped. Then, Chuck took a shuddering breath and his eyes flickered open to narrow slits.

"Chuck?" she whispered hopefully.

– **GG – GG – GG – **

Consciousness came abruptly. One moment he was swimming in the murky, hot waters of delirium, and the next thing – he was cold, hot, aching all over and half blind. He struggled briefly to remember where he was and why he was this way, but memory eluded him and pain made his priorities simpler: To survive this hellish prison.

Where was he? It was dark, and he couldn't make out anything. Flashes of bright lights, and echoes of strange words buffeted his senses and he struggled to make sense of it all.

"Chuck?"

The voice startled him – he struggled mightily to see where it came from, but only saw a dark shadow next to him. The dark figure reached out for him and placed an icy-cold hand to his cheek. Alarmed, he shrank back.

"Stay away," he croaked.

It said something to him and leaned forward. And suddenly there was a burst of light, which pained his eyes, he turned away and hissed in pain.

"Sorry, sorry!" said a panicked voice. The light dimmed, and the shadow hovered over him. He stared at in panic … but the shadow was no longer a shadow … it was ….

Blair?

But Blair wasn't here. She left. And so he left for Prague. He wasn't going to come back, he was hell bent on making sure that it came true. She wasn't here. This was not Blair.

"Who are you?" Because this wasn't Blair.

Thirsty, he was so thirsty.

She frowned and placed icy hands on his cheeks. "It's me, Blair." She drew a shuddering breath. "I'm right here."

He shook his head. Whoever she was – _it _was – he was not going to stay around to find out. He pushed her hands away and tried to lift himself off the bed with arms shaking so badly that they threatened to buckle under him. He didn't get far – he heard her protest and push him down. He couldn't put much of a fight so found himself on his back again, staring at her dark, glittery eyes.

She looked like Blair. A lot like her. But thinking about Blair made him remember things that he didn't want to, and as he sank into memories and regrets, his resolve weakened and he sank back heavily into confusion again, shivering. She said something to him again. He couldn't understand what she was saying at all and wished she would stop.

God, he was thirsty. This place – it was hot, dry and empty and full of dark things. He wanted to return to the murky confusion he was in because that meant he could escape into nothingness again. It was preferable to this place.

As if it heard him, he could feel the darkness approaching again. He felt his body going numb … and he waited patiently for the darkness as it lapped up his wavering vision like –

"Water," he whispered without thinking. He imagined swimming in it – like that time when Serena broke into the school's swimming pool and made a party happen. Those were simpler times.

And then the darkness finally took him. And he was glad.

– **GG – GG – GG – **

_Eight hours ago_

Chuck drew the curtains wide open to stare at the traffic below. The trail of cars and people in front of The Plaza wobbled in his vision … and he felt his stomach roil. He gave up, withdrew from the window and sat heavily at the edge of his bed, staring at the suit draped over a chair.

Lily had breezed into his suite with it yesterday, hell bent on cheering him up with it. It was a Saville Row, of course, and Lily said that she had taken pains to ensure that it fit him perfectly – though how she did so without getting anyone to measure him was a mystery.

Then, Rufus showed up and all hell broke loose and he had to toss them both out because it was that or him throwing up right in front of them. This nagging cold was getting to him – or rather, his friends and family were finally getting to him.

Yesterday was D-Day for everyone to a) cheer him up or b) get angry with him over something. In the morning, Nate had stormed in, mad about what he did to Jenny; then came Eric, whom he thought was going to continue the Jenny tirade but instead just wanted to talk and cheer him up – and Chuck was so amused and touched by his efforts that he let him; then Lily with her suit, and finally Rufus who would've killed him if Lily hadn't stepped in.

Yesterday, the stars were just not aligned to his favour.

He looked down at his rumpled white shirt and slowly began unbuttoning it. God, it has gotten warm in this room.

Frankly, the thought of attending yet another formal event exhausted him. All that small talk, all that fawning he had to endure … Lily, like Serena, thought the solution to any problem was a well-hosted party. She had suggested gently to him that to ease him into the top position of Bass Industries – something she hoped he would ascend to on his 20th birthday – he should mingle as much as possible with the top people of the industry.

Ordinarily, this was exactly what he'd want and he would've embraced into it like an eager puppy. But after all that had happened, he wasn't sure why he did what he did anymore. And after having spent a month in a hospital in Prague thinking about fate, mortality and life, he wasn't particularly sure _if _or _why _he should be Bart Bass the second anymore.

So far, he had dutifully followed Lily's instructions because he didn't know what else to do. But today he decided that this gala was going to be his last. It didn't help that Blair was always at these things, and that made it infinitely worse. They tried to ignore each other, of course, but their presence hurt each other nevertheless. He wanted to stop doing that to her. And he wanted to stop hurting as well.

He stared at the suit again.

You just have to get up, put that bloody thing on, and get on with it already.

But his whole body was aching like an abused football.

"Chuck? The door's open. Can I come in?"

He groaned. What now?

His step-sister walked in carefully. She didn't used to do that – tip toe around him like he'd keel over in a dead faint if she, God forbid, surprised him. His welfare wasn't particularly high on her to-do list in the past. But since she found out about what really happened to him in Prague, she had become his persistent, motherly shadow – much to the delight of Gossip Girl and her readers, and much to the fury of Blair Waldorf.

It annoyed him in the beginning. But now, he was used to it. In fact, he actually looked forward to her presence … she was the only one he didn't have to hide the truth from, and he found it strangely reassuring and liberating. They could … talk. _Really _talk.

Serena stopped and stared. "Chuck, you look like hell," she said softly.

Usually he'd say something sarcastic or, at least, something slightly witty. But today, he settled for a shrug.

"I have a cold," he said simply.

"Chuck, shouldn't you call Dr Harding? Should you even be sick in your condition –"

"Serena, you're _hovering _again."

She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him, managing to look like her stern, aristocratic mother despite being in a clingy, cleavage-baring, too-short billowy yellow summer dress. His lips quirked up in amusement at his thoughts.

"Well, it comes with the package," she said. Her brows furrowed in irritation when she saw his smile.

"And what package might that be?"

"The 'I'm sick with worry over you' package, that's what!" she tossed her Hermes handbag carelessly on the floor and sat next to him on the bed. He felt the sudden urge to back away.

"Chuck, I'm not kidding when I said that you looked terrible. I don't think that this is just a cold."

She reached out and touched his forehead and he jerked away, embarrassed.

"You're burning up!" she cried out in alarm.

"Serena. It's _just _a cold. All I need to do is sleep it off and I'll be fine in time for the gala," he said.

"I don't believe that's – "

"I don't need you to believe anything," he snapped.

She went silent for a beat. Then: "You have to tell someone, Chuck. You can't keep this a secret forever. At least tell my Mom!"

He shook his head and averted his gaze from her piercing blue eyes. "We had this conversation before."

"And we're going to keep having it, because keeping this secret is obviously not working because people are starting to notice, Chuck."

"Notice what?"

She grabbed his shoulders and forced him to look at her.

"That you're not yourself! You've barely left your room, barely spoken to anyone and Mom's worried to death, and so is Eric and Nate, and Blair's been acting out. And keeping this from them is killing me! But secrets have a way of coming out – you know that better than anyone. And I don't know if it's going come out the way you want it to," she said.

"Are you threatening to _tell_, again?"

"No," she said quickly. "But what if Gossip Girl found out –"

"You give her too much credit, _Sis_."

He sighed and buried his face in his hands. He just wanted everyone to disappear and leave him alone. Returning to New York was a big mistake, he realised that now. He had the noble idea of making amends with those he had wronged but it was more difficult than he had anticipated, and his shaky health and keeping that a secret complicated things further.

He felt Serena place a hand on his shoulder. "Chuck?"

He looked up and felt faintly horrified that his eyes were brimming with tears.

"Chuck …" Serena whispered worriedly.

"I'm just … overwhelmed," he said softly.

It was the first time he'd come close to admitting how he truly felt, though the more accurate word would be "afraid". Chuck was afraid that his family and friends would leave him if they knew what he was capable of; he was _ashamed _about what he'd done; he was still haunted and shaken by the too-painful memory of a bullet ripping through his back and watching the blood leave him in a rush on the cobbled streets; he was anxious that his health wasn't returning and wondered if he'd ever recover it. But most of all, he had lost Blair, and he was terrified when he looked into the dark abyss of his future – a future without Blair.

He was scared. _You're pathetic_, said his father's voice.

She took his hand in hers and just quietly sat next to him as he gathered himself. He drew a deep, shuddering breath and reluctantly turned to her.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

She just shook her head. "Don't be. Please. Let me help you. I hate seeing you like this," she pleaded in a small voice.

Once upon a time, Chuck Bass would've wondered if Serena van der Woodsen really meant those words. But after a month of sharing this burdensome secret with him, he no longer doubted her sincerity. He marvelled at her concern and wondered what he did to deserve it. Once, he even tried to chase her away with the truth. While she was furious and incensed about what he did to Blair, she was back at his doorstep two days later lecturing him about his pathetic attempt to chase her away. He thought he had her figured out, but Serena's inner depths were more mysterious than he'd anticipated.

He didn't know what to say, so he just kept silent.

Serena must have realised that he wasn't going to give her an answer any time soon, because she squeezed his hand and said quietly: "Don't come to the gala tonight. I'll tell Mom that you need to rest."

"I'll _be _there," he said, fixing her with a determined glare.

"Chuck – "

"Tomorrow. I will see Dr Harding tomorrow."

"With Mom, perhaps?"

She was, if anything, extremely persistent. He sighed. "_Fine_."

She beamed, and Chuck was a little taken aback by her happiness.

"We're going to help you through this, Chuck."

He just nodded, and wondered what he was going to be in for. Never mind his health. Lily and Serena was going to mother him to death. He smiled faintly at that.

She saw him smile, which seemed to amuse her. And they sat in companionable silence for a while.

All he needed was to sleep ... everything will be better when he finally woke up.

– **GG – GG – GG – **

**After thoughts: **Poor Chuck. He really does try, but things just don't go his way at all. (At least in my universe, heh.)

This fanfic came about as I thought, "What if Chuck didn't have anyone to 'rescue' him in Prague? What would he do?" And I thought that Chuck would probably try to hide his condition from his friends and family because he's not one to expose himself to the pity of others, and also because he'd want to keep Blair away.

(warning, spoiler!)

I know many hates the idea of this Eva person in his life in season 4, but I really think it is very necessary for him – during that period when he's so conflicted (and not to mention in pain after the gunshot wound) to have someone help him heal. And that's why I rather like the idea of Eva.

(end spoiler)

Okay, before you decide to scoop my heart out of my chest with a spoon, let me say that I really love the "sibling" relationship between Chuck and Serena, and have highlighted it a lot in this fanfic. I do hope that the show will highlight Chuck and Serena's unique relationship in season four. Cross fingers!


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Blair watched helplessly as his eyes slowly slid close. She bit her lip as she pressed the wet towel to Chuck's burning forehead and lay the back of a hand to his cheek. Was he hotter? It felt that way. She closed her eyes and swallowed the sobs that threatened to emerge. She felt so goddamned helpless.

The light from the bedside lamp made it impossible now to ignore how sick he was – the pale, sweat-slick skin, the dark circles beneath his eyes, or the fact that he was breathing way too fast. Blair Waldorf has not seen anyone have anything more serious than a cold – visiting the sick and dying were not part of her social climbing ambitions – and to see Chuck, who never even allowed a sniffle to make him look weak, like this ...

She suddenly blinked in realisation. Water. He was asking for water. He was thirsty – God, how could she be so stupid? God knew how long he had been lying there without a drink of water. People could _die _from thirst, couldn't they?

She ran to the kitchen and poured water into a glass with hands that could not stop shaking. But when she got to his bedside, holding the glass of water in her not-too-steady hands, she realised that she did not know whether she was strong enough to lift him.

"They're on their way!" Nate was suddenly in the room. His eyes were wild with fear, and his hair was disheveled, and somewhere along the way to where Serena took him, he had shucked off his coat and tie. But he no longer looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Nate! Help me with him!" she ordered in what she hoped was a steady voice as she placed the glass on the bedside table and struggled to lift Chuck up.

Nate looked almost relieved to have something to do. He quickly appeared at her side, sat on the edge of the bed, lifted Chuck and awkwardly cradled him in his arms.

Chuck moaned from the sudden movement and feebly tried to push him away. His eyes flickered open, and his fever-bright eyes rolled restlessly around.

"Hey, it's me, Nate. You're gonna be okay, buddy," Nate whispered, catching Chuck's flailing hand in his.

"Here. Come on, Chuck, drink this," Blair said breathlessly as she held the glass of water to his pale lips.

He coughed and turned away.

Blair pressed the glass to his lips again; Chuck tried to avoid it once more, but she tipped it carefully so that some water lapped on his lips. That seemed to work. Chuck took a sip, coughed, then drank. They watched in tense silence as he slowly drained the mug. When it was finally empty, he turned away and went limp in Nate's arms, breathing heavily.

Blair met Nate's fear-ridden eyes.

"God, he's burning up. I've never seen him this sick," he whispered, his voice shaking. "What's wrong with him?"

She shook her head. If only she knew.

"Where's Serena?" she managed to choke out.

"Waiting for the paramedics in the lobby," Nate said, his eyes still on Chuck, who has gone still in his arms; his eyes were now closed and his breathing seemed quieter. It appeared that he was finally asleep, and Nate was reluctant to lay him down, lest the movement jarred him awake again.

So they were like this for long, strained minutes. Nate holding Chuck, Blair stroking his sweaty hair and murmuring soothing words that he didn't hear. It was almost peaceful.

The false quiet was broken when they heard the lift doors open and footsteps running towards them. Blair was halfway to the door when Serena ran through it with two paramedics right behind her.

"Ma'am, how long has he been like this?" one of them demanded.

Blair wasn't sure if he meant for Serena or her to answer, but she answered anyway.

"We found him like this about half an hour ago. But we don't know how long he's been … like this," she said, her voice shaking so bad she could barely keep from stuttering.

Nate reluctantly relinquished his hold on Chuck and stood up stiffly as the paramedics lay him flat on the bed. Their movements were quick and sure – one listened to his chest with a stethoscope, while another was taking his pulse.

They rattled off medical jargon to each other which jumbled into meaningless goobledygook in Blair's head. She hastily wiped away the tears that clouded her vision.

One of the questions made sense, however.

"Ma'am, can you tell me his medical history? Any history of illnesses? Previous injuries?"

It was then that she saw the look on Serena's face. And that's _Look _with a capital L; the kind of look that meant that she had been hiding something and she's just been found out. Blair's face hardened as Serena avoided her gaze.

"He ..." she swallowed nervously. "Four months ago … he was shot in a mugging."

Nate froze and stared at Serena. "What?" he cried out in disbelief.

_Shot? That's ridiculous. That stuff only happens in the movies, _Blair wanted to say. But she found herself without breath to utter a single word.

"Do you know where he was shot?" the paramedic demanded.

Serena nodded hastily. "He was shot in the back – it wasn't a through and through and the bullet lodged in his liver, but they took it out. That's all I know. That's _all _he told me," she looked at Blair, then quickly averted her eyes.

He told Serena. But he didn't say a word to her.

Eventhough it made sense why this was so – she had made it clear that she didn't want to have anything to do with him – it still hurt her that Chuck kept this from her. Look at what _he _made her do. Blair had treated him like a cockroach for months, and all this while he had been … what, sick? Injured? How could he hide this from them? How could Serena?

She could see the play of emotions on Nate's face as well. Shock, dismay, guilt and then anger.

"You kept this from us," he said in a low voice.

"He didn't want me to tell anyone. And … this isn't the time for this," Serena said softly and turned her gaze to Chuck.

Chuck didn't stir as the paramedics moved him to a stretcher, placed an oxygen mask on his face and covered him with a blanket.

They trailed behind the paramedics wordlessly, their eyes on Chuck, who, if it was possible, had grown paler. The journey down was a blur; Blair didn't notice the sizeable crowd at the lobby that stared and muttered among themselves, or how they got to be in front of the ambulance. She watched, numb, as they loaded the stretcher into the ambulance.

They only had room for one more in the ambulance, and Nate volunteered to go. In just minutes, it was only Serena and Blair on the curb, staring at the receding, blinking red lights.

"How could you?" Blair found herself saying. "You knew all this while? And you didn't say _anything_?"

"Blair. You don't know how many times I wanted to tell you. But Chuck … he threatened to leave New York if I ever did, and all I wanted for him was for him to get better. So, I thought..." she trailed off.

"But he didn't get better. He got worse!" Blair cried out shrilly. She knew she wasn't making any sense at all.

Something akin to a storm raged in Serena's eyes at her words. "And suddenly, you care? You weren't exactly showing an interest in his life, Blair!" she yelled.

Tears welled up in Serena's eyes and fell, spilling a trail of mascara down her cheeks. And Blair realised that she was crying too. They had a staring match for a few minutes, and then Blair nodded slowly.

"I did. I did say I never wanted to see him again. That I wanted him out of my life," she closed her eyes and let out a bitter laugh. "And I guess my wish came true."

"Shut up!" Serena snapped. Then, impulsively, she wrapped her arms around Blair, hugging her so tightly that Blair felt her breath being squeezed out. She tightened her grip around her as well, sobbing quietly.

"I should've told you. I'm so sorry. I was going to today, but … he's going to be fine, you know that right, Blair?" Serena stroked her hair.

"He better be, S. Because … I'm so mad at him right now," she whispered weakly.

Reluctantly, they parted, because they now had to get a town car to get to the hospital.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

After watching Serena being loaded into an ambulance last year, Nate swore to himself that he'd never want to be in the same position again. But here he was … only this time the situation was twice as dire as the one before.

One of the paramedics – his name was Matthew, he vaguely recalled – was taking Chuck's blood pressure. And frowning at the results. It certainly did Nate's blood pressure no favours.

The ambulance rocked as it took a quick turn; Nate grabbed his seat for support, but his eyes were still on the activity around Chuck. The harsh fluorescent light made everything in the ambulance too bright, too clear and too difficult to downplay … like how Chuck was sick, really sick, and possibly dying. He shook his head violently at the thought, and ran a nervous hand through his dishevelled hair.

Chuck looked even ghostlier than he did in the apartment. His oxygen mask misted with the tempo of his too-quick breaths, and he did not react when Matthew inserted an IV needle into a vein in the back of his left hand. Nate turned away and tightened the grip he had on Chuck's other hand.

"Do you know what's wrong with him?" he asked hesitantly.

Matthew exchanged a cautious look with his partner. His name was Peter – so said his name tag.

"It's not up to us to speculate, but I'm pretty sure we're dealing with late secondary infection here," said Matthew.

He threw a puzzled glance at Peter.

"It's rare, but this being New York, we've seen enough gunshot wounds to see it happening often enough to recognise the signs," Peter said, frowning darkly.

"But … But he was shot months ago."

Matthew nodded as if he sympathised with his disbelief. "A lot of things can go wrong after a gunshot wound. Abscesses could form, shrapnel could've been left behind in his body and these things often bring in foreign matter ..." Matthew trailed off when he saw the panic clouding his eyes. "Look, your friend is in good hands now. We're almost at Mercy's," he said.

Nate nodded stiffly and returned his gaze to the still, pale face of his best friend. He still had a hard time digesting the fact that Chuck had suffered a gunshot wound. Shot? Months ago? Which meant … it must have happened while he was in Prague.

It explained Chuck's long communication silence – nobody heard from him for a month after he left New York. Not an e-mail, or a text message, let alone a call. Nate was worried enough to watch Gossip Girl like a hawk, hoping that some socialite had snapped a picture of him in Europe. But no such luck.

Lily had gotten worried enough to do something, but just as she was about to hire a private investigator, Chuck sent a brief, terse message about Bass Industries, and Lily calmed down again. And Nate had been mad about Chuck's indifferent attitude, and more than a little fed up about how he would just go missing whenever he had some emotional crisis, not caring if he left behind people who were worried sick about him.

Now, Nate wondered if he had sent that message from a hospital bed.

He probably did.

He closed his eyes, and the image of Chuck lying helpless in a bed in some strange hospital came unbidden to his mind.

What the hell was he thinking keeping this away from all of them?

Just then, he felt Chuck's hand stir feebly in his grip.

And saw Chuck watching him with glazed eyes.

"Chuck?" he whispered hopefully.

His eyes, while still unfocused and bright with fever, seemed to hold some recognition.

"Nath..." it was barely a whisper. The oxygen mask muffled his voice even further, making it more difficult to hear him.

"Hey, don't talk, okay? You've got to rest."

Chuck looked blearily around him.

"Where am I?"

"You're in an ambulance."

Chuck frowned, removed his hand from his grip and reached for the oxygen mask.

"Hey, don't. You need this," Nate quickly stopped him – it was far too easy to do – and placed his hand on his chest.

Suddenly, Chuck's eyes widened. "Blair. Blair! Did they take her?" He tried to rise, but could only lift his head a fraction.

"No, no … Blair's fine. She's going to meet us at the hospital," Nate said and squeezed his hand in reassurance.

He looked relieved for a moment, but the worry quickly returned. "They took her ring. I couldn't find it," he said anxiously.

More delirious ramblings.

"She has plenty of rings where that came from, Chuck. You can buy her a thousand more."

"No ... no," Chuck insisted breathlessly._ "_I was supposed … to give it to her." He drew a laboured breath.

Was Chuck saying what he thinks he's saying? 

"You were going to propose to her," Nate said quietly.

And Nate realised, to his dismay that Chuck's eyes were wet with tears. Peter saw it too; he shook his head and gave Nate a disapproving look: Don't upset him, it said.

"Hey. Come on, man. You're gonna be okay..." he didn't know what else to say.

What happened between Blair and Chuck was so fucked up he had no words for it. When he first found out about the Indecent Proposal deal, he had been _enraged_. Chuck had ruined the best thing that had ever happened to him in his life, and worse, he had nearly damaged Blair beyond repair. What the hell was he thinking?

But after returning from Paris, Chuck carried a haunted look in his eyes that Nate couldn't understand. But now, knowing what he knew, he realised that it was the look a man wore when he saw death face to face. The kind of look you get when you realised that life was more precious than you think, and that you desperately wanted to live, but the problem was that you've screwed it up so badly you have no idea how live it.

"Nathaniel," Chuck whispered again, this time looking at him with eyes so full of determination that it surprised Nate into silence for a while.

"What is it, buddy?" he said softly.

Chuck dragged another laboured breath.

"Please … take care of her," he said weakly, curling his fingers around his. There was no doubt who "her" was. Another strained breath.

But Nate shook his head vehemently. "_Don't _talk like that. You're going to be _fine_," he said firmly.

Chuck shook his head weakly and made several attempts to say something, but all that came out was a strangled gasp. The effort seemed to tire him out; his eyes slid close as he took another laboured breath.

It shook him to the core to see Chuck struggling like that … there was something final, something desperate about the way he fought so hard.

_No! Chuck is going to be fine! _He thought frantically.

"Chuck, don't talk. Please," Nate said in a trembling voice.

This time, Chuck actually listened to his plea. He opened his eyes to rest his gaze on Nate. There was something in his eyes that Nate didn't like. Something that made his heart race in panic and fear … he watched in rising panic as Chuck's breaths became shallower and slower. Then, his eyelids fell, then flickered open again, and fell …

Several things happened at once right after that. Chuck's hand went limp in his grip. And the monitors started shrieking.

Stunned, Nate could only stare at Chuck's pale face, wondering what had gone wrong. Matthew shone a light in one eye, shouting, "Can you hear me?"

_This can't be happening._

He watched the paramedics work on him through a veil of tears.

He was not going to watch his best friend die in this white, boxy vehicle. Because it just didn't happen to people like him. Or people like Chuck.

It shouldn't, but yet it was.

"He's going into shock!" he heard one paramedic say.

_This can't be happening._

**GG – GG – GG**

A while later, he stumbled out of the ambulance, watching in disbelief as the paramedics were greeted by a gaggle of nurses and doctors at the emergency room. They made it clear that he was in the way, and that he should wait outside, and like a good little shell-shocked robot, he did go outside. His legs refused to support him, so he slid down the wall and sat, slumped, on the floor.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

_Three weeks ago_

Spotted. Chuck Bass looking particularly un-Bass-like. What is he hiding under that hoodie, girlfriends?

Serena could almost hear Gossip Girl's catty voice as she spied Chuck walking slowly on the pavement, wearing a sacrilegious assortment of casual wear: slacks, a plain shirt and … a jacket with a hoodie. She told the limo driver to stop and got out. At first, Chuck didn't notice her, but when she came uncomfortably close to his side, he looked up and his eyes widened.

He quickly hid his surprise.

"Hello, sis. Are you adding espionage to your list of 'careers to try out' before university?" Chuck drawled.

"Look who's talking," Serena shot back.

Chuck actually looked embarrassed. "It's a passing … phase," he muttered as he pulled his hoodie so that it obscured his face further.

"Chuck," she said, more serious this time. "Why are you disguised, and why are you walking?"

He scowled. "Everyone walks in New York."

"Not Chuck Bass," she said.

He rolled his eyes and started walking again. Serena doggedly matched his strides.

"At least take the limo, Chuck."

"It's too slow."

"For your hospital appointment?"

He froze and gave her an icy glare.

Or at least his best approximation of it. His usually frosty glares were now blunted with exhaustion. In fact, everything about his demeanor echoed the fatigue and pain he must feel after the ordeal he had suffered in Prague. What was it that he told her? A week in a semi-lucid state doped to the tips of his hair with morphine and another two weeks, bedridden, as he tried to regain his strength?

Her mother was worried that her usually ambitious and party-loving step son was now hiding away in the Palace, of course, but attributed the change to his bad break up with Blair. But Serena knew the real reason – and it gnawed at her conscience to keep this a secret for him.

"The last thing Bass Industries needs is for the shareholders and the public to know that I am … less than healthy. And aren't you supposed to be busy with your annual bitch fest with Waldorf?" he bit out.

"And whose fault is that? Blair thinks that I'm trying to move to fourth base with you."

He looked startled, then disgusted.

"Thanks, Chuck," she said wryly.

"_I_ never told you to follow me like a lost puppy, Serena. So, here's a clue to solving your current fracas with Blair: Leave. Me. Alone."

With that, he continued his march towards the hospital. He sighed when Serena remained at his side, but didn't say anything. They walked silently for a few minutes, and then Chuck let out an exasperated sigh.

"Look, _sis. _You never really took the whole brother-sister thing between us seriously, so don't start now." He sounded tired and resigned.

She ignored the jibe.

"I know what you're trying to do, Chuck."

"Oh, really? Enlighten me."

"You're trying to push me away. That's your modus operandi. Whenever things get a little too emotionally challenging, you withdraw like a turtle into its shell."

"Spare me the shrink analysis," he muttered. Before he could start walking again, Serena grabbed his shoulder.

"Chuck," she said pleadingly.

The tone of her voice made him pause. He eyed her warily.

"I only agreed to keep this a secret for you as long as I can … make sure you're okay."

"I don't remember you making such a promise. Or me agreeing."

"Well, I'm saying it now. Like it or not, we're _family_. And I'm the only family who knows about this. You're right. I took our relationship for granted before, but not anymore. I want to be here for you. In a non-romantic way, of course," she added hastily, giving him a lopsided grin.

Chuck looked at her uncertainly, then sighed. "I guess I can't stop you," he muttered.

"I take that as a yes," she said brightly.

Surprisingly, Chuck gave her a small smile.

Another interesting change with Chuck – while he still tried his best to hide physically and emotionally from his friends and family, there were now moments when he caught them off guard with a small emotional expression or two.

"This is going to be interesting – how are you going handle things with Blair now?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe I'll push her into another cake?" she suggested.

Another smile. This time, one that reached his eyes.

In a way … she understood why Chuck refused to tell Blair. "I have to let her move on, Serena," he had told her simply. And he had looked so vulnerable then, and so desperate for her to agree that she couldn't say no to him. Nate, Lily, Eric … they couldn't keep a secret worth a damn (his words) and were included in the list as a result. If she hadn't stumbled on him in Paris, incapacitated by a rare bout of paralysing pain, she would've been on that list too. Hell, Chuck would probably have remained in Paris – possibly forever – if she had not discovered his secret and threatened to tell everyone about it unless he returned with them to New York City. And Chuck had counter-blackmailed her by saying that if she did breach her promise, he'd be on the first plane out of NYC with no return address.

She took his threat seriously. His eyes said it all.

She struggled daily with the secret, wondering if she was doing everyone a disservice by hiding Chuck's continuing health problems. Although Chuck wasn't exactly sharing the full details of his ailments to her, Serena could guess by his occasional wince of pain and how he sometimes looked washed out and dazed at the many galas, functions, and events that he had to attend as scion of Bass Industries to realise that he wasn't exactly in the bloom of health.

What he needed were his friends and family by his side, but Chuck was determined to slog through this alone. Serena had known Chuck for as long as she knew Nate and Blair, and she knew that being surrounded by a flock of overly concerned friends and relatives was the kiss of death for him. The pressure to keep up his ever-present emotionless wall would've been unbearable, and he would've retreated even further. Right now, he wanted and needed to be left alone. It was probably all he could handle now.

So, it was up to her to support him somehow. If someone had told her four years ago that she would one day be a pillar of support to Chuck Bass, she would've laughed at their face and asked them if Chuck was paying them to say that.

Things have really changed.

"You know, the outfits that Nathaniel and Humphrey are so very fond of is actually quite comfortable," he said suddenly. Then he gave her a mock, dangerous look: "Breathe a word of it to anyone and I'll destroy you."

"Not a word, promise," she made a zipping motion across her lips and tossed an imaginary key behind her shoulder.

That seemed to amuse him, and he laughed shortly. The sound of it – a laugh so free of cynicism or bitterness – was so unlike him that it made her grin all the more.

Yes, things have really changed.

**GG – GG – GG**

_Present _

Serena trailed behind Blair, and watched her silently as she ran towards Nate who sat slumped on the floor of the waiting room. They must make an odd sight in the sterile room – Blair in her flowing red Oscar de la Renta and Serena in a backless Chanel. But the people in it – there were only four – were too preoccupied with their own personal tragedies to care.

Blair knelt next to Nate, speaking quietly to him. He shook his head occasionally, but looked mostly subdued and numb. Her heart began to race … something must have happened in the ambulance.

When she finally stood before them, the two of them looked up at her. Their eyes glittered with accusation.

She ignored it.

"Is he ..."

"He's in the ER. He crashed," Nate said shortly, his voice flat.

She shivered. "What do you mean he crashed?" she tried unsuccessfully to keep the panic from her voice.

"I heard the paramedics saying that he went into shock," he shrugged. "I don't know what the hell is going on." He sounded angry.

"But Serena obviously does," Blair said bitingly.

"Blair –"

"Serena. What the hell happened? I think you owe us that much, don't you think?" Nate said, his eyes angry.

She wanted to yell at them that she didn't owe them squat; that while they were busy plotting, dating, social-climbing or worrying about grandfathers, gay fathers and how to be the queen bee of Columbia, she was with Chuck, helpless to do anything to help him because he wouldn't let her in.

Instead, she took a steadying breath. And told them.


	6. Chapter 5

Note: Thank you for your reviews, everyone! It's food for my inspiration. :)

**Chapter Five**

_One month ago_

She didn't notice him at first. That was mostly because the cafe by the Seine was nearly full around when she first settled herself at a table near the entrance. However, by the time evening came along, the crowd thinned enough for her to see one lone figure at the outermost edge of the cafe, which had a fine view of the Seine.

He sat facing the Siene, which was turned golden by the evening sun. The man was cast in a deep shadow by the setting sun; he hardly moved except to lift the glass by his side for an occasional sip. By all appearances, he looked like a native Parisian – you can always spot the tourists by their restlessness – deep in thought.

But something about the way the man lifted that glass seemed terribly familiar. Serena frowned, placed her cup of tea on the table, and sat up straighter.

Then, a barge floating by cast a brief light on the man, and she finally saw who it was.

"Oh my God," she moaned.

She couldn't believe it. Blair had come all the way to escape Chuck Bass, only to find Chuck Bass in Paris. Life was funny that way.

Fortunately, Blair had decided to catch a cab back to their hotel a few hours ago. So, she wouldn't be exposed to the man who broke her heart last month. And who, apparently, is currently stalking her like some creepy serial killer from a slasher flick.

Sighing, she stood up and marched towards him. When she finally stood at his table, she crossed her arms and cleared her throat.

He looked up, and his eyes widened.

_Good attempt at looking surprised, Chuck, but I know better._

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

He merely stared speechlessly at her. If she knew what she knew now, she would have noticed that he was thinner and paler, and that he was bereft of the smugness he carried around him like a cloak. But while she did notice that he did look haggard, she had quickly assumed that he was having one of his drug- or alcohol-induced hangovers.

"Are you following Blair?" she snapped.

"Blair's here?" he asked softly.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. As if you didn't know. I find it hard to believe that you're just here because of some big cosmic coincidence."

His face hardened. "Maybe I'm here because I own the place."

With Chuck, that's quite a possibility. But she ignored that and slid into the chair opposite his and glared at him furiously.

"If this is one of your twisted schemes to get back together with Blair, let me tell you that I'm going to do my very best to make sure that you don't come anywhere near her. Frankly, I find it creepy that you're even stalking her like this," she said.

"I'm not stalking her," he snapped.

"So, you're just having a holiday in Paris," she said, her voice laced with heavy sarcasm.

She readied herself for the sarcastic comeback, but it never came. Instead, Chuck suddenly shuddered and closed his eyes. Was it … pain that she saw?

But before she could say anything, Chuck got up. She noticed how he bit his lip and how he was gripping the chair for support.

"Chuck, are you okay?"

He took a deep breath and glared at her. "Like you care," he said through clenched teeth.

He stumbled away from the table. Serena got up hurriedly.

"Wait, Chuck!"

She followed him to the back of the bar just in time to see him stumble hard. She quickly ran to him and caught him just in time as his knees gave out. He was too heavy for her, so she helped him to the floor, and he leaned against the wall heavily, breathing in harsh gasps.

"Chuck, you're scaring me."

He didn't answer, but instead fumbled for something in his coat. He took something out with violently shaking hands, and the object fell from his shaky grasp and clattered sharply on the wooden floor. Serena quickly reached out for it and to her surprise, realised that it was a plastic tube filled with red pills. Her French was rusty, but she could make out two words – pain killers, it said.

With hands that barely coorporated with her, she unscrewed the top and handed him the tube and watched silently as he downed a few pills.

"Chuck, what's wrong?" her voice sounded small and frightened to her ears.

Of course, something was obviously wrong. He had gone white, and sweat was dampening his forehead. He shook his head in response.

"I just need … time," he gasped and then closed his eyes and leaned wearily against the wall. He clenched his side and breathed through pained gasps.

Serena knelt helplessly at his side as she watched him struggle with the pain. She reached out with a shaking hand and lay what she hoped was a comforting hand on his shoulder.

It took forever for his breathing to return to something akin to normal speed. When it finally did, dismay written all over his face.

"Chuck..."

"Go away," he rasped.

"Not until you tell me what just happened."

He looked away, and Serena only moved to his other side.

She fixed a determined stare at him, and it seemed to do the trick. He sighed and struggled to sit up straighter. Concerned, she tried to help, but Chuck only waved her away.

"I'm not an invalid," he snapped.

"Sorry, but from where I am, you _are_. Now, _tell _me."

He managed to settle into a more comfortable position with some effort and then looked tiredly at her. Realising that she was not about to give up, and perhaps tired out by the seizure of pain he had endured, Chuck finally answered her question.

"I was shot three months ago," he said softly.

She blinked, too shocked to respond. She ran through her mind several possibilities what "shot" meant, but came up with only one possibility that involved bullets and guns.

"What? But how?" she finally managed to say.

"Two idiots mugged me in Prague. They shot me and left me for dead in an alley," he said shortly. "It's not a very interesting story. Can we move on?"

"No, you're not going to just leave it at that. Why didn't you tell anyone? My mum? Nate? Blair?"

Fire flared in his eyes at the mention of her name. "I don't want this getting back to anyone back home – especially Blair," he hissed and narrowed his eyes.

That stumped her. "Why? You need – "

"I don't _need _anyone," he snapped.

"You need help, Chuck. You need to be with friends and family right now."

"I managed three months on my own without any of you, so I disagree," he said.

They could circle each other like this forever, Serena thought in frustration.

"Fine," she reached into her bag and took our her cell phone. With a practiced flick of her wrist, she flipped it open. "My mum is on speed dial. All I need to do is call her. She'll be here before you can pack your bags. So, you might as well return to New York with me and Blair."

He gave her an incredulous stare. "Are you blackmailing me?" he said in disbelief.

She raised an eyebrow. "I learned from the master."

"What, Georgina?"

She sighed. "I'm serious. My finger is on the speed dial now. And I have to warn you, my mum and Blair's speed dials are quite close together. I could accidentally just..." she slowly pressed her finger on the lighted screen –

Chuck lay a hand on the phone and looked at her pleadingly. "Don't."

Fear shimmered in his eyes. He looked so … exposed. Serena had never seen him so nakedly vulnerable before. Was this what Blair meant when she said that the real Chuck beneath the Bass mask was a different creature altogether?

"I have to let her move on, Serena. _This _is not going to help her," he said.

"And hiding this from her is going to? What part of your plan is supposed help her with that?"

"Don't pretend as if you don't know what she'd do if she ever found out," he bit out.

She would feel conflicted, most definitely. She would pretend, for a while, not to care, only to be drawn back to Chuck – for all the wrong reasons. The old Chuck would've welcomed it. In fact, he would've totally manipulate the situation to his advantage.

"She doesn't need any more pain from me, Serena," he said.

But he was … he was not the Chuck she knew.

He really loves her, she thought.

She took his hand in hers.

"Then come back to New York with me. And I promise you that I will not tell a soul."

He stared at her hand as if it was some alien creature. Then, he frowned at her.

"And if you do, let me assure you that I will leave New York City for good. This time, without a return address," he said in a low voice.

She knew that he was deadly serious. But she was determined not to back down.

"It's a deal," she said, staring determinedly into his eyes.

He must have seen the truth in her eyes because he slowly grinned – a shadow of his trademark leers that she had so hated before. "Your first blackmail, Sis. You make me so proud."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "Shut up, Chuck."

Impulsively, she leaned over and hugged him. He stiffened in surprise, but slowly, awkwardly, he returned the hug.

"We're going to get through this," she said softly.

**GG – GG – GG**

_We're going to get through this._

She meant it. But fate may have other plans.

"Well, thanks, Serena. I feel _so _protected," Blair said snidely. But her eyes were wet with tears. Without another word, she stood up and walked hurriedly away.

"Blair!" she called out. She looked uncertainly at Nate.

"Go to her. I'll call you when there are any updates," he said tiredly.

She nodded and ran after her.

**GG – GG – GG**

That Bass-tard. That Mother-Chucker.

He always thought that he had the solution for everything, that he executed his schemes for their own good. He was an idiot, a moron, a Bass-hat for orchestrating that conspiracy with Serena. And Serena, being his partner in crime? Words defy her right now.

"B?"

She lifted her eyes to stare at the simple crufix on the altar. "S?" she said flatly.

She felt Serena sit next to her.

"I'm sorry."

She let out a short, bitter laugh. "You fell for it, S. This is his usual schtick," she said bitterly.

"What, Blair?" Serena sounded drained.

"Don't you see? He did all this so that he could avoid facing the people he'd hurt. He was hiding in Prague, then Paris, and then finally in this stupid scheme."

"Maybe. But I did what I did to get him home."

Blair allowed a tear to fall. "What am I going to do then? I would always remember that my last moments with him was me being the bitch. How is that fair?" she said.

Serena never thought that far. She had hoped that Chuck would eventually come around and finally tell everyone the truth. Or Blair, at least. Chuck proved to be more stubborn than she thought.

"I don't want him to die, Serena. After everything that has happened between us, I should hate him, and I do, but I don't want him to die either. I _can't _lose him. It's messed up," she said weakly.

It was messed up and yet it was so Chuck and Blair. Serena leaned against Blair and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"He's going to be okay."

Blair just nodded. Serena sounded too unsure for Blair to fully believe her.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

He was in Brooklyn when he got the call.

Jenny was on a rare visit to Brooklyn, and he thought to just hang out with her and Dan, and to catch up with some studying at the same time. They were barely half an hour into their reunion when his cell phone rang.

It was his Mom, and the only time that she sounded like that – so frantic and afraid – was when Serena got into that car accident. So, he had immediately expected the worst – it was Serena again, or Rufus … or …

"Chuck?" he said out loud in shock.

Jenny looked up from the _Vogue _magazine she was leafing through. He could see the curiosity, tempered with caution, in her gaze.

He allowed his mother to ramble on. The longer she spoke, the deeper his shock. He was already stunned at "he's in the hospital", but to hear "critical condition", and "gunshot wound" in the same sentence was too much.

"Mom. I'll meet you there right now," he said breathlessly.

He shut the phone off and hastily threw his books into his bag. Jenny looked worried now.

"Eric. Is everything okay?" she asked in a quiet voice. Obviously, nothing was.

He shook his head. "It's Chuck," he said shortly. He didn't want to elaborate further, especially since his name was still anathema in this part of town, especially in this loft. Jenny was still mixed up about it; sometimes hating Chuck, sometimes pitying him, and most of the time hating herself for what happened.

And Dan …

Dan let out a loud snort.

"It figures," he muttered as his fingers with clickaty-clack on the keyboard of his laptop.

Despite all that he knew – what Jenny had gone through with Chuck, why Dan – being her brother and all – now hated Chuck's guts with a passion – he felt anger bubble up from within him.

"What do you mean by that?" his voice sounded unnaturally sharp in his ears. Even Jenny looked surprised.

Dan, however, didn't seem to notice.

"It's some Chuck drama that you have to attend to, isn't it? What is it this time? Chuck got into it with some girl and Blair Waldorf exploded?"

"Dan –" Jenny said in warning.

"Or maybe an old flame poured oil on one of his expensive suits and lit it on fire? Ooh, that's an emergency," Dan chuckled, his eyes still on the screen.

"Dan!" Jenny yelled this time, desperate.

Surprised, he looked up from his laptop. It was then that he realised that he had perhaps gone too far – Jenny had gone pale, and Eric glared at him with barely contained anger.

"Something … wrong?" he said hesitatingly.

Eric let out a small, bitter laugh. "If you must know, Chuck is in the ICU in critical condition. And I'm going to join Serena and mom there now."

"Eric –" Jenny reached out for him, but conflicted, he shrugged it away and gave Dan a flat look.

"Look, I know why you hate him. I get it. But he's _still _my brother," he said through clenched teeth.

With that, he left, slamming the door behind him. He heard Jenny calling out after him, but right now his mind was on Chuck, and that he was perhaps inches away from death.

**GG – GG – GG**

Lily's expression didn't change. Those who didn't know her well would accuse her of being cold and uncaring, but in truth, she was far too stunned to react to the doctor's words.

He was shot. Four months ago. She blinked.

And his condition now is a complication of his gunshot injury. She gripped Rufus' cold hand.

Liver abscesses were rare, but they do occur in wounds like his. The option now was to drain the abscess, but because of his relatively unstable condition, it would be fraught with risks. The other option was to treat him with strong antibiotics first and hope that it would rid him of the infection, or at the very least, stabilise him enough for them to attempt the surgery.

Lily listened to all this without a flicker of emotion on her face. But inside, she was riddled with fear and anxiety.

Gunshot. Bullet wound. Liver damage.

The words bounced around in her head.

How could she not know? Why did he keep this from them? Charles had always been private, but surely he knew that he could turn to them for help? And, as his family, why didn't we realise that something was wrong?

_What kind of a mother am I?_

"We managed to lower his fever from 105 to 104, but his condition remains critical. I'm afraid that you may have to decide soon – whether to go ahead with the surgery … or wait."

Lily blinked.

The doctor frowned. "Mrs Humphrey?"

Rufus gripped her hand and leaned forward. "What are the risks if we go ahead with the surgery?"

"Waiting for the antibiotics to take effect is a gamble at best. Judging from his condition, the infection appears advanced, and if we do not go ahead with the surgery to drain the abscess as soon as we can … we're looking at sepsis and multi-organ failure."

Lily gripped Rufus' hand so hard that he flinched.

She finally managed to gather herself.

"What … what do you recommend, Dr Harding?"

"I would recommend the surgery," he said without hesitation.

She nodded slowly. "Will he … is it dangerous?"

"I won't lie to you, Mrs Humphrey. Your stepson is very weak right now, and many things could go wrong in a surgery as delicate as this one. _But _the surgeon, Dr Patel, is the best in his field and I have every confidence that he'll be able to help him."

"But … there's still a risk?"

"Mrs Humphrey – "

"_Please _… I need to know everything if I have to make this decision," Lily's voice wavered. Charles' life was literally in her hands. Never in her wildest imagination did she think she'd ever be in this position.

Dr Harding paused for a moment, then nodded grimly. "His heart could fail; it is overtaxed already by the fever and the stress of surgery could make it worse. His blood pressure is also all over the place … it is not the best time to perform a surgery, I admit, but Mr Bass is young, in good health, and without previous history of serious illnesses. That will be on his side during the surgery."

This was too much for her to take in.

She lost control then and allowed her tears to fall and ruin her make-up and wondered what Bart would do in a situation like this. She came up with a blank; the most Bart had done for Charles, if he had ever gotten into trouble, was to dispatch his team of lawyers. Charles – in the time that she got to know him – never got sick, and Bart didn't seem to show any concern for his wild ways. So, it was up to her to make the decision somehow.

But Rufus, ever-reliable Rufus, pulled her to him and kissed her forehead.

"It's going to be okay."

She nodded feebly.

And she made her decision.

**GG – GG – GG**

Eric arrived just when Chuck was being readied for the operating theater.

Chuck was in his room surrounded by orderlies who already placed him in a gurney. Eric saw his mother bend over the still, white figure on the gurney, and kiss him on the forehead. He didn't recognise the man on the bed; he looked like a mannequin, or a slab of marble – he just wasn't Chuck.

He stared at the needles sticking out his hand … and then at the bags of liquid that hung above his bed. And noticed how Chuck's hair, and the red, blue wires of the monitoring devices around him made such stark contrasts against his alabaster skin. He didn't look real. None of this was real. Eric shook his head in disbelief. He just spoke to him yesterday. Chuck was obviously under the weather, but he had thought that he was weathering a hangover. He had seen it more times than he cared.

He had actually felt bad about what happened months ago, and a little guilty for the events of that night. If he hadn't told Dan when he did, Dan wouldn't have caused Chuck to fall out so spectacularly with Blair and Chuck wouldn't have run off to Europe, fell off the face of the Earth for months, only to return to New York so … strange.

Strange was an inadequate way to describe the current Chuck. He may have the same sarcasm and bitterness that defined him, but he was listless and that word was never used describe the man ever. Chuck was always doing something – going around about town striking a deal or another, or scheming with Blair to take down some upstart socialite or two – but this Chuck preferred to stay away from society and spent most of his time holed up in his penthouse at the Palace. And The Empire? Word has it that he was planning to sell it soon.

His Mom noticed it, of course, and planned a series of galas and parties because she thought Chuck would like them. It was sweet of her, but Eric could see Chuck was only tolerating them for her.

So, he felt it was his job to coax Chuck out of his shell, and maybe find out what the hell was wrong with him.

Yesterday, Chuck actually responded to his efforts for once. They spent an hour just talking about school and the new mean girls trying to take over Jenny's reign, and about the new guy he was seeing. Chuck even teased him once or twice, and appeared interested in what he was saying, even if his eyes betrayed his exhaustion.

He should've known that he was sick.

Why didn't he tell him that he had been shot?

He felt a hand on his shoulder and knew, from the whiff of distinctive perfume, that it was Serena.

"Hey," she said softly.

But he couldn't tear his eyes away. When they wheeled Chuck out of the room, he saw, up close, just how bad Chuck looked and went cold.

"Is he going to die?" he whispered when they were finally out of the room.

"Oh, Eric," his Mom appeared by his side and just hugged him. He could see that she didn't know the answer to that either, and that scared the hell out of him.

**GG – GG – GG**

NOTES: I know, I know. Some of you may be wondering. Where the hell is the C/B already?

But I promise you, there will be another update tomorrow, and it will have CB.

Chapter 7 was a tough one to write, because it involves a difficult C/B scene, and their dynamic is one of the most difficult to write in all fandom, not just Gossip Girl, if you tell me. It also involves another complicated argument between another couple, and boy … all I can say is the next chapter is full of fights, LOL. Hope you enjoy that one.

_To answer ggxoxo who said, in his/her review of Chapter 5, __"__its stupid that you excited us whith an update and then almost the whole thing was a flashback of something we already know happened."_

**A: **Perhaps the word you're searching for is redundant, and yeah, I can understand your point of view. (Though using the word "stupid" is a tad indelicate IMHO.) I _did_ wonder whether I should include the flashback as I already described it in such detail before in an earlier chapter. Originally, I only started the flashback with Serena handing him the pills, but in the end I couldn't resist fleshing it out with more details – especially to include how Serena acted towards Chuck before she found out about the shooting. So, yeah, it's a little redundant, but my intent was to show the interaction between the two, how Serena was hostile in the beginning and how she came to be more sympathetic to Chuck's plight. And, of course, how can I resist adding the "Your first blackmail" line? :)

Annablake – I'd have to say that my Serena is the ideal Serena in my head which I have a big feeling doesn't exist in such a (cough) pure form in the show :) Personally, I don't know how Serena will react if she ever did find out about the whole "selling Blair for the Empire" thing. I have a strong feeling that show Serena will never forgive Chuck. But hey, this is my fanfic so … my rules. ;)

Thanks guys, and just wait a little longer until I edit and polish up the next chapter. :)


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

_Three weeks ago_

He was standing away from everyone else and eschewing company like the politicians, businessmen, friends and frenemies at the gala were too much of a bother for him to associate with. Not exactly becoming of the host of a party, but Chuck Bass never did anything that suited anyone. While Lily stepped in as hostess, Chuck stood at the furthest corner of the rooftop garden, sipping martini and staring at the city lights.

Blair caught a flash of irritation on his face when he turned, sensing her presence. But then it was quickly replaced with surprise mingled with fear, and just as quickly, it was taken over by the careful, well-practised mask of disinterest that Chuck had perfected since kindergarten.

"Well?" she demanded.

He sighed. "Get to the point, Blair," he said quietly.

That stumped her for a while. Chuck, if he were the Chuck she knew before Paris, would have responded with a sarcastic retort. It was a game that they've played too many times before, and she was well-practised in it. But this Chuck-of-few-words was not a creature she was used to.

She merely sniffed haughtily at the challenge. "Fine. Why did you leave Count Alexei off the guest list?"

He took his time answering; he sipped his martini slowly and studied her with his dark, fathomless eyes. "Maybe it was an honest mistake," he finally said.

"There's nothing _honest _about you," she snapped bitterly. And the memory of what he did to her because of the Empire returned, and for a moment her mask slipped and the raw pain of it shone through her eyes. She saw it in his as well, the regret and despair.

But they both slipped their masks back on.

"Count Alexei is a man with ties to shady businesses financing terrorism in Europe, Blair. The last thing you need is to hang around him," he said flatly.

She snorted in disbelief. She had heard most of his unique excuses to foil her plans, but this is one of his most inventive yet.

"And where did you hear such crap?"

"Interpol," he said shortly.

"Your attempt at sabotaging my relationship with Alexei is pathetic, Bass."

"Please. I have more pressing matters to attend to than micro-manage your love life."

Then, he sighed, placed the martini on the ledge and crossed his arms.

"Here you are, trying to fall in love with yet another titled schmuck. It's all so … 2008. Get a new plan, Waldorf," he drawled.

"So, what, you decide to rescue me from my cruel fate?" she bit out.

"So he doesn't attend this gala. Big deal. There are a dozen other galas in the future. Lily will make certain of that and your social-climbing agenda will be back on track," he said dryly.

"What I need is for you to stop interfering in my life as if you still belong in it!" she snapped.

"All I did since I came back is to honour that request that I get out of your life. You're the one who broke your solemn oath by coming over and talking to me," his voice rose as well.

She laughed bitterly. "You give yourself too much credit, Bass."

"What are you doing, Blair?" he said softly. "Hanging onto the Count's arm like some kind of simpering socialite butterfly? Settling for a man who obviously only wants you for a trophy girlfriend."

"You're the last person to give me relationship advice, Bass. And the Count and I are good friends, and if we become something more, it's still none of your business."

"You deserve someone better, Blair," he said, her eyes strangely sad. And Blair Waldorf hated to be pitied. Especially for the wrong reasons.

"And who do you have in mind? _You_?" she sneered.

A flicker of anger across his face. "And what makes you think that you're good enough for me?" he said coldly.

It shouldn't hurt her, but it did. Eventhough she knew that this was Chuck being Chuck. She saw the regret and dismay in his eyes almost immediately after he said those acid-tinged words, but she only forced her lips to stretch into a bitter smile.

"Blair … I'm ..."

"Don't be," she said shortly. She turned to leave, but he intercepted her by grabbing her hand.

"I didn't mean what I said," he said hoarsely. "I'm just ..."

"Being you? You see, that's why you and I can never be, Chuck. Because what you are _inside?_ It can't be loved."

She did what Blair Waldorf was good at – cut him deep. Yet she received no satisfaction from the flicker of pain she saw in his eyes. Instead, she just wanted to cry.

Somehow she managed to keep her eyes icy cold and her lips from trembling, but the tears were threatening to emerge the longer she stayed here with him. It took him a few seconds to compose himself, to push the pain from his eyes.

"Blair, I meant what I said. I _will _spend the rest of my life making things right with you. Even if you're with someone else, even if you spend the rest of your life hating me," he said quietly.

She could see the despair and hope in his eyes, and it would've been so easy, just so easy to reach out and give in to his plea. Of course, Chuck. I'll give you a 100th chance. Never mind that you've trampled my heart each time I bared it open to you, vulnerable and still bleeding from the last bruising, never mind that you did the worst thing that you've ever done to _me._

"You know what happened to me, Chuck? _You _happened to me. I don't want your apologies or your excuses. I don't want _you _in my life. You don't exist to me. Not anymore."

With that, she shook off his hand, and marched off, leaving him standing cold and alone at the edge of the party, while she sobbed quietly to herself.

**GG – GG – GG**

She was so certain that she'd hate him for the rest of her life, and that any shred of emotion that she'd felt for him had been purged violently out of her after she she found out that he had slept with Jenny. She was sure of that when she saw him saunter casually into the first class cabin in the plane which would take them back to New York, and she was deadly certain when she had that stinging conversation about the Count with him three weeks ago. But when she saw the nurses wheel his motionless body past her and Nate, she had to stop every fibre of her being from following them into the operating theatre.

_I just can't quit you, Bass._

She laughed sardonically, pulled out a silk handkerchief for her clutch and tried, futilely, to repair the mess that her make-up had become.

Nate gave her a curious – if slightly numb – look, and then sank into the cold, hard plastic chair of the waiting room. He stared at the closed doors leading to the operating rooms as if Chuck could be spat out again any time soon.

"Guys," Serena called out. Blair saw Eric, Rufus, and Lily trailing behind her, and talking quietly to each other.

"Why don't you both go back and freshen up? The doctor says that the surgery is going to take hours."

Serena was so calm and collected. It was unfair. It made her mad.

"I just booked a penthouse at the Aquitaine, and Dorata is bringing my things now," she said in response, sounding ridiculously defiant. The Aquitaine hotel was just a block away from the hospital. It wasn't the Ritz or The Palace, but it served its purpose.

Serena brightened up at that. "That's a good idea, Blair. Why don't you –"

"I'm _staying_," she snapped.

"Blair –"

"Me too," Nate said quietly.

Eric stepped forward. "I just got here," he said simply.

Serena laughed in resignation. "Well, I'm staying too, actually."

They fell quiet. Rufus seem to take that as a sign that it was time to step in.

"Okay, why don't you guys stay here and make yourself comfortable while I get some food for you guys. Orders?" Rufus said in a level voice.

They all looked blankly at him.

"Okay, I know just the thing," he said, putting on a strained smile. He gave Lily a quick kiss, which she returned, and headed out of the waiting area.

**GG – GG – GG**

Could this family _not _go through each year without some crazy crisis? Rufus wondered to himself as he stood in line at the sandwich joint just a walk away from the hospital.

He felt immediately guilty for the thought … especially what happened yesterday with Chuck. He sighed and rubbed his forehead. It was as if the universe was watching, listening … and decided to make what he said come true. Thanks Universe, but no thanks. Don't need the guilt right now.

"Rufus."

He jumped despite knowing who it was. He gave Lily a sheepish grin, which she returned with an amused smile.

"Sorry I startled you. Thought you'd need some help with the food," she said.

"Thanks," he said simply. He held her hand and she squeezed it. Simple affirmation that, despite it all, they still had each other. Yet, only days ago they had one of the biggest fights of their marriage – even bigger than the whole William conspiracy of last year. The topic? Chuck.

**GG – GG – GG**

_Yesterday_

When Chuck opened the door, the look of realisation on his face told Rufus all he needed to know.

He pushed his way in – to hell with an invitation – and Chuck let him. He closed the door quietly behind him and fixed Rufus with an unreadable stare.

"I just need to know why," Rufus demanded. So far so good. His tone was nowhere near the depth of fury he felt yet.

Something flickered in the man's dark eyes. "There was no reason. She was there."

He couldn't remember how he crossed the small distance between them, grabbed Chuck by his shirt and slammed him against the wall. But when he could finally focus again, and he realised what he did, he was so startled that he let Chuck go.

Chuck didn't move … he just stared at him with what seemed like resignation.

"Is that all you're going to say?" So much for tone control. It was shot now.

"What else is there to say?"

He could feel another red haze coming …

"What's going on here?"

Lily appeared behind them, holding a suit in her left hand. She stared in disbelief at Rufus.

"What are you doing, Rufus?"

"Doing what any father would do if he just found out that his step-son slept with his daughter."

There was no surprise in her eyes. His face hardened at the sting of betrayal he felt. After the whole William-cancer debacle, she promised that there were no more secrets between them. So much for that.

"You _knew_?"

"Yes, Rufus. I knew," she said, her voice taut.

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Don't do this, Rufus."

"What, defend my daughter?"

"Get out."

Chuck's voice cut through their argument like a razor-shaped blade. Rufus stared at him in disbelief.

"Get. Out," Chuck bit out, staring at him with dark, flat eyes. He shifted his gaze to Lily. "Both of you. Or I'll call security to escort you out."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing, but Lily did not seemed to be the least bit offended. She hung the suit on a chair, came to Chuck and kissed him on cheek, which he took stiffly.

"Let's go, Rufus," she said.

She pulled him out and her eyes brooked no argument.

He pulled away briefly and glared at Chuck. "From what Dan told me, you've always escaped punishment for whatever you did. But not this time. I'll make sure of it," he hissed.

Chuck looked away.

"Rufus!" Lily snapped. She dug her nails into his hand and pulled him away.

"How could you say that?" she cried out when they were finally out of Chuck's suite.

He pulled his hand away from Lily's painful grasp. "And how could _you _defend him after what he has done?"

"We all make mistakes, Rufus. And Charles knew that he had made one. He was sorry, Rufus."

"He told you?"

"Yes, and he was trying to figure out how to make it up to Jenny."

"Please. What can he do to fix this? If he so much as throw a dime at her direction – "

"Rufus. Be reasonable. It was Jenny's decision too –"

"She is sixteen, Lily! What kind of decision could she make at that age?"

She pinned him down with one of her "I can't believe you just said that" looks.

"If I remember correctly, we made all kinds of crazy decisions when we were at that age," she said tautly.

"I can't believe this. I can't believe that you're defending that –"

"Rufus. You don't understand how it's like to make a mistake so bad that you can't bear to look at yourself in the mirror the next day."

And Lily was an expert making those kinds of mistakes. Giving up Scott for adoption. Never telling him about their son. Having Serena jailed just so that she could do things her way. Never being there for her children when they most needed her to.

He knew all that, and yet he couldn't stop the words that left his lips.

"Really, Lily? That excuse is good, but I've heard better from you."

He felt guilt stab at him when her face briefly crumpled with hurt. But anger quickly replaced it.

"Don't do this, Rufus," she snapped.

"Do what?" his voice rose.

"Make me choose between Charles and Jenny, because that's _never _going to happen!" she yelled, her voice matching his in volume.

They stopped, startled, when they heard something clatter behind them. Both turned to see a maid staring at them nervously from behind her trolley of cleaning supplies.

This seem to snap Lily out of her uncharacteristic show of volatile emotion. She cleared her throat, tucked flyaway blonde strands behind her ears and sighed.

"I'm going home, Rufus. The gala in Bart's honour is tomorrow, and I have to make sure that everything is ready. Go, don't go, I don't care," she said pointedly. With a last, piercing glare, she stepped past the embarrassed maid and left.

**GG – GG – GG**

_Present_

"I'm sorry," he said earnestly.

"I know," she said, squeezing his hand. "I am sorry too. And I love you."

"Me too," he said.

They both felt that it was important to say it.

Receiving the call from the hospital during the gala had snapped them both out of their self-centred rage. He had rushed to her side immediately the moment he saw the look of terror on her face, and when she told him about Chuck, he didn't hesitate to follow her to the hospital.

The reminder that at anytime any one of them could be felled by disease or ill luck made them realise that disagreements like theirs didn't matter in the big picture. It also reminded Rufus of the love one had for their child, and had it been Dan or Jenny instead … and suddenly he understood Lily again, even if he didn't appreciate the degree of empathy she had for Chuck Bass.

"I know it isn't easy for you to be here after what happened with Charles. But I really appreciate it because I need you here," she said softly.

He just nodded. He wasn't as furious with Chuck as he was before, but he still couldn't deal with what happened between him and Jenny. So, things will be more than awkward between them for some time yet, and he's not going to be swapping "how's your day" stories if Chuck dropped by at the Humphrey-Van der Woodsen penthouse any time soon either.

He certainly wasn't looking forward to the coming Van der Woodsen-Bass-Humphrey Thanksgiving or Christmas dinners either.

Rufus pulled Lily to his side, and kissed her on the forehead.

"I can't pretend to understand Chuck. And I'm not ready to embrace him in my fold yet – but I'll always be here for you, Lily."

She leaned her head against his shoulder. "That's all I want, Rufus," she said softly.

Then the guy at the counter called for their orders, so they moved forward, hand in hand, united in a common purpose once more.

**GG – GG – GG**

**NOTES: **Oh wow, the whole Chuck/Blair conversation was so difficult to write. It will, definitely, be a conversation that will polarise readers into the "Here is Chuck hurting Blair again and Blair being the victim" and "Oh, Chuck and Blair is hurting and lashing out at each other" camps. I would rather hope that more of this fic's readers will belong to the latter camp. But even if you do belong to the whole "Chuck is a jerk for hurting Blair again camp", I'm satisfied, because that's the reaction CB causes anyway.

There's just no in-between for Chuck and Blair. They love passionately and they hate just as fiercely. And as a result, you'll get reactions that are just as extreme. It's a dynamic that you hardly see on TV that is well executed, but thanks to Ed Westwick and Leighton Meester (these two actors are amazing, btw), this dynamic just rocks in Gossip Girl, though it often makes half, if not most of the CB fandom furious. LOL.

I need to tell you that I'm a little infamous for writing long fics, and you may wonder – when the 'good stuff' will happen between C and B. I like to build things up to a crescendo and I most assuredly promise that the second half of this fic will deal mostly with them. In the meantime, enjoy, as I will be updating tomorrow and the day after that with new chapters. We're almost there, folks, and I thank you for your patience. :)

And your reviews? Lovely! I do love reading them (even the nitpicky ones!) and I appreciate each and every one of them.

Now, to answer a reader's question:

Hello Deb,

_You said: "Is this an anti-Blair story?"_

Oh, no, no. Definitely not. ;) I'm not heavily biased to one character; I love all the characters in equal measure. Well, maybe except for V. Sorry, V, but someone needs to give you a drug problem to make you a little more interesting. My aim is to write the characters as true as I can to them.

_"Just curious, because you seem to want the reader to only empathize with Chuck. You're not painting Blair in a really great light."_

Well, I hope that in this chapter and in the next few chapters that the readers will empathise with Blair too. But not painting Blair in a great light? Uhm, how so again? I'm a little puzzled by that statement. Blair, is just being Blair, bitchy on the inside, but obviously caring for Chuck in the inside. And she did take care of him while waiting for the paramedics ... if that's not showing Blair in a great light, I don't know what will!

_"you seem to LOVE Serena. Are you trying to make it seem like Chuck and Serena are both annoyed by B, cause all their joking sort of makes it feel like they just tolerate Blair and roll their eyes at her."_

While I do admit I like Serena (I love Blair and Chuck more), tolerating and rolling their eyes at her is not exactly how I'd describe their relationship with B.

_"Do you not think Blair has just reason to be upset?"_

Well, of course! And Blair's response is highlighted in this chapter … 

_"You say they're fighting in the next chapter _(Chapter 7)_, but I'm not sure Chuck really should be arguing with Blair at this point after all the ways he's hurt her. Not sure I get where you're coming from."_

Well, Chuck is in no condition to argue with anyone right now in the _present _on account of being in surgery and all. And being in a semi-coma to boot. In the past, however, is another story.

_"It doesn't really seem like a CB story. More of a CS. Can you please clarify?"_

Well, as I said in the first chapter, I'm not a shipper, although I'm partial to C/B, so I'll never slant a story or twist characters to fit whatever relationship I happen to fancy. I always, always try to write according to what's _true _for the characters, and this may lead to rather unfavourable territories shipping wise. But C/S is, uhm, a wee to incestuous for me, thank you very much. This is a C+S friendship slant thing :)

Well, hope I answered some of your questions!

Thank you for reading! Another chapter tomorrow. Cheers, Wyndhamfan.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

After failing to convince Blair or Nate to leave the waiting room, Serena and Eric decided to head to the Aquitaine to get a change of clothes and maybe wash up. It was already midnight, and they were totally hammered. So, they half stumbled to the exit, and saw two people they didn't expect to see.

"Dan?" Serena said, amazed.

"Jenny?" Eric said at the same time.

The Humphrey siblings stood up from the chairs by the exit.

Eric quickly pulled Jenny aside before she could say anything and Serena watched the two distractedly before fixing Dan with a puzzled frown.

"Dan, what are you doing here?"

Dan rubbed the back of his head. "You must think I'm an asshole if you had to ask that."

She sighed. "No, I didn't mean –"

"And you would've been absolutely right. I'm an asshole when it comes to Chuck, and 95% of the time I'm pretty okay with that, but this is the 5% when I feel like an absolute asshat."

"I don't get you."

He shook his head. "Never mind. How is he?"

"Not good. He's in surgery now. They've been in there for three hours. But the doctor says that he will make it."

"What the hell happened?"

She sighed, not relishing the thought of explaining, once again, how Chuck covered up the shooting, his health problems et al. But she did anyway, and Dan's eyes widened with each revelation.

"Ah," he said awkwardly. "That's … I don't have any word to describe what you just told me."

"Trippy?"

"Close. But something stronger would be better. I don't even know how to react to this. I don't know anyone who was shot before. Though, now I do."

Dan was babbling. And he only babbled if he was uncomfortable.

"Dan. You don't have to be here if you don't feel like it," she said.

"No, I _do _want to be here," he said earnestly.

She frowned, confused. "Really. Why? I mean, no offense Dan, but you hate his guts. Especially after what happened with Jenny –"

"Yeah. But as a member of the human species possessing of a small amount of conscience, and since he's technically family –"

"Dan, thanks."

"Thanks?"

"For just being here, despite you hating him 95% of the time. Though if he knew that you were here pitying him, he'd probably kill you."

"Don't worry, Serena. I have a feeling that if we were going to have a one-to-one soon, I'll be the champ," he said, then winced. "Oh God, that was crass."

"Dan – " she began, but was interrupted when her cell beeped. Frowning, she took it out, read the message, and snapped her phone shut with a worried look.

"What?"

"He's out of surgery," she said nervously.

**GG – GG – GG**

"Jenny? Are you crazy? If Blair sees you here she'll kill you," Eric hissed.

"I don't care about Blair right now. I'm worried about you. And I'm really sorry about what Dan said. Since the whole Georgina thing – with the baby and all – he's been – ," she said.

He sighed. "Distracted, I know. How's the 'hide the baby' project coming along, by the way?"

"We had a close call two days ago when Dad came to the loft."

They both winced.

"Listen, you don't have to explain, Jenny. Dan and Chuck – bitter enemies is too simple a term to apply to them."

She gave him a small smile, then looked serious.

"How is he?" she asked softly.

"It's bad," he said, then bit his lip when he felt a surge of fear sweep over him. "He's in surgery right now. The doctor said that he'll probably make it, but the risk is there. I don't know what's going to happen."

"I'm sorry, Eric."

"I'm still dealing with the whole 'he was shot' part," he sighed, shaking his head.

Her eyes widened. "_What_?"

"Oh," he said, belatedly realising that she didn't know about the incident in Prague. "That's why he is so sick right now. Mom said that his wound – the bullet lodged in his liver – was infected or something like that. I don't really understand it all, but here you go."

"When the hell was he shot?" she cried out in surprise.

"When he was in Prague. He hid it from us. I don't know whether to kill him or hug him right now."

"This is messed up," Jenny said quietly.

"Yeah," he said just as mutely.

They fell into an uncomfortable silence for a while. Then Eric sighed.

"I know he's … complicated in many ways, but Chuck's been a good brother to me. Most of the time, anyway."

She nodded. "I think ..." she sighed, looked up and shook her head. "Before everything got so screwed up, he was trying to be one to me too. He tossed Damien out of his hotel once," she said, smiling at the memory.

He brightened at that. "Really? Why?"

"He caught Damien using me as a drug mule," she said.

He coughed at that. "He _what_?"

"Like I said, I was screwed up."

"No kidding."

She slapped him playfully. "Well, he actually made sure I got home from the Empire. Personally escorted me. I think he suspected I was going to bolt after Damien. I think he just understood what kind of person I was but he wasn't judgy about it, you know?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

"I hope he gets better. I _want _him to get better, you know that right, Eric?"

"Of course." That was one thing he was at least sure about.

"Eric!" Serena called.

Dan and Serena hurried towards them. "Chuck's out of surgery," she said as she rushed pass him.

Eric looked at Jenny awkwardly.

"You better go ahead. Just give me a call if anything," she said.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine **

_A year ago_

Her cell beeped. Smiling, Blair flipped it open. It was Serena:

**So, how did it go?**

Ah yes, Serena and her mysterious vacation in Europe and God knows where else. Nice to know that she still remembered her.

**Awesome. I didn't think 'I love you' would sound so good!**

A few seconds, then: **Oh! Details!**

Grinning, she typed: **I'm in his suite. Three days and we're still at it**

Longer pause, then: **TMI!**

Blair giggled. **Will welcome tips on positions.**

**He's already rubbing off you, B. Yuck!**

She giggled again, placed the cell on the bedside table and snuggled deeper into the covers.

I _love_ you. I love _you_. Frankly, she didn't think she'd ever get tired hearing him say those three not-so-little words. And hearing him say them while he made love to her was even more amazing.

She smiled happily at the man in question.

Chuck Bass seemed to sense her gaze on him. He stirred, opened his eyes and lazily returned her grin, and she found herself marvelling at how the smile made him look so otherworldly … so not Chuck Bass. Because Chuck Bass didn't smile. Chuck Bass leered, sneered and on occasion, perhaps grinned. But smiled? The fact that he smiled that way only with her made her tingly again.

"You should do that more often," she said.

"Do what?" he said, his voice husky from sleep.

"Smile," she said, tracing a finger across his lips. He took her hand in his and kissed it.

"I didn't have much reason to do so before."

"And now you do?" she said teasingly.

He gave her one of his precious smiles again. "What do you think?" he murmured, and then gently kissed her on the lips. Then, he pulled her closer, kissing her more forcefully. But she pulled away coyly, laughing as she did so.

"Oh, Chuck Bass. I swear you're a sex machine. Don't tell me you're game for round … I lost count."

"As you should," he drawled.

After declaring his love for her, they had shot straight to The Palace to, well, make his declaration even more complete. That was three days ago. She had protested her lack of clothes, and in typical Chuck Bass fashion, he declared that she needn't worry because she won't be needing them.

"I took the liberty of ordering room service," she said. "We need our energy," she said suggestively.

"Hmm … I hope you ordered a chocolate dip. I feel creative tonight."

She laughed. "I know you'd say that, you perv, so I ordered strawberry instead."

They kissed, and Blair thought that she'd never be happier than this, lying skin-to-skin with Chuck Bass, knowing for certain that he loved her as much as she loved him. She sighed and lay her head on his chest. He entwined his fingers with hers.

"Do you think we'll have this forever, Chuck?"

When he didn't say anything, she frowned and lifted up on her elbows to look at him.

"What is it?" she said, trying to keep the edge away from her voice.

But he just shook his head. "Right now, the thought of losing you is unbearable. I don't want to think of forever right now. I've not had a good track record with forever," he said. This was probably the most honest he's ever been with her.

His response left her with mixed feelings. Worry warred with concern, doubt battled the certainty she felt about his love. She lay her head against his chest, pushing the feelings aside.

"I don't want to lose you either," she said quietly.

They both felt the phantom fear lurking in the background – the very same spectre that kept them away from each other for almost this entire year. And Blair Waldorf wasn't going to let it come between them again. Especially now.

She raised herself up and framed his face with her hands.

"You know what, Bass? I'm just going to enjoy you now, in the present," she declared. "And covered with strawberry sauce."

He smiled again. God, she loved how he smiled.

"And are you going to demonstrate just how you're going to achieve this feat?" he said playfully.

"Hmm. Good idea. It's time I took control," she purred.

Suddenly, he tackled her and she laughed as he flipped her over to her back and kissed her at the crook of her neck.

"Let's see who's going to win this round, Waldorf," he drawled.

"Don't underestimate me, Bass. I'm going to own you this time," she said as she crushed her lips against his.

They didn't answer the doorbell when Room Service came calling.

**GG – GG – GG**

_Do you think we'll have this forever, Chuck?_

She was naïve for even asking that question.

Blair studiously avoided seeing the still, pale figure in the bed. Instead, she focused on the machines around it – the heart monitor whose beeps signalled that Chuck was alive, if not particularly well, and the bags of liquids hovering above his bed, and then watched the nurse adjust the IV drips.

But she could only hold out for so long. Reluctantly, she shifted her gaze to Chuck, but the sight of his face nearly hidden beneath the breathing apparatus made her almost lose her composure. She swallowed, blinked away tears that were threatening to reemerge again, and looked away. It was difficult to see him like that. She _shouldn't _care, but she did.

_God, Chuck, you're always doing this to me, making me care when I should be better off not caring._

They were all there on the other side of the glass staring in. Nate, Serena, Eric and even Dan, of all people. Lily and Rufus were in the room with Dr Harding, talking too softly for them to hear anything.

Blair felt Serena place her arms around her. But she could only stoicly stare at the white bandages around Chuck's torso as the nurse gently inspected them.

When Lily, Rufus and Dr Harding finally walked out of the room, Blair eagerly stepped forward. She could feel everyone else following her, and soon they surrounded them.

"The surgery was a success," Lily said, a glad, tired smile on her face.

Blair let out a breath slowly. She could hear Nate sigh in relief, and saw Serena hugging Eric.

"It's going to be some time before he'll wake up," Dr Harding said. "It's advisable that you go home now and get some rest."

"But –" Blair protested.

"I know, honey," Lily said gently, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "But the doctor said that he'll probably not wake up for quite some time. And you need to rest. We all need some rest. It has been quite a night." She sighed heavily. "Quite a night," she said softly again.

None of them looked pleased at the news.

"Can I see him before we go?" Nate said suddenly.

They looked at the Doctor, who gave them a short nod. "But only for a while. He needs his rest," he said.

_It seems that he's getting the rest that he needs, and it's not as if he's going to even know we're there, _Blair thought snidely. But she gave him a forced smile instead.

They surrounded the bed, with Eric and Nate at Chuck's bedside. Dan, she noticed, hung back at the door. Good, because it'd be weird if he did anything else. She, on the other hand, couldn't seem to go any closer.

"Hey Chuck, we're gonna be back soon. So, hang in there," Nate said.

Nate reached out to clasp Chuck's hand gently in his, careful to avoid the various needles sticking out at the back of the hand. Eric only stared mutely at his step-brother, looking a little shell-shocked and confused by it all.

Chuck, of course, did not react. And Nate even looked a little surprised at this, as if he had expected Chuck to open his eyes somehow. With a hand on Eric's shoulder, Nate whispered something to Eric and they both left the room. And she heard the rest leaving with them.

Then it was only she and Serena were left in the room.

Blair watched his chest lift and fall mechanically, aided by the respirator. The movements weren't natural; how he was "sleeping" now was an abberation … Chuck, for one, preferred to sleep on his side, not on his back. And on the days when Blair slept in his suite, he would sleep facing her with his arm around her waist. Sometimes she would awake with him smiling and staring into her eyes, as if he couldn't get enough of her. She loved how disheveled his hair would get in the morning, and she liked running her hand through the soft strands...

This? This is not Chuck.

She drew a shuddering breath and felt her tears threatening to emerge again. She took a few reluctant steps to his bedside, then reached out to touch his face. It felt too warm, too dry. And a five o'clock shadow was already forming – he wouldn't like that.

A tear rolled down her cheek. Then another.

"Idiot," she said to him. "I was supposed to be over you."

"Blair," Serena whispered.

"I hate you, Bass," she whispered. "I hate you."

Then, loud, wracking sobs shook her slender frame. She closed her eyes and then leaned forward, touching her forehead to his, weeping as she tried to feel the life that seemed to be flickering in him. She managed to gain some measure of control, then caressed his too-warm forehead, and kissed him softly on his cheek. She then felt Serena's arms around her, hugging her tightly from behind, but it didn't stop the tears as the fear, anxiety and anger that she had kept penned up for the last few hours came pouring out.

She turned and buried herself in Serena's embrace, crying softly.

"I can't lose him, Serena," she said brokenly. "Tell me he's going to be okay."

"It's okay. He's going to be okay," Serena said softly, stroking her hair.

She could only sob helplessly as Serena hugged her, wondering how her hopes and dreams always landed her in places she didn't want to be.

**GG – GG – GG**

**NOTES: **I've always felt more than a tad annoyed that they didn't show us even a tiny glimpse of Chuck and Blair enjoying each other and getting more comfortable with one another during the summer before season 3 started, so this is my way of "retaliating", LOL. Many fans didn't like how "boring" they got in season 3, but honestly, I loved how they were with each other; how comfortable and obviously in love they were. Of course, at the back of my mind, I suspected that they were gonna tear them apart – and boy, _**did they**_.

_88Mary88 wrote: "Like I said before I don't understand the whole Jenny problem. I mean of course Rufus and Dan have to be protective of her... but honestly... as if she would be still their innocent little baby... she's quite a bitch and it was her decision too to sleep with Chuck... so get over it."_

It's a very caveman thing. This is my clan woman! You no touch my clan woman! They just can't fight their caveman genes ;)

_Annablake wrote: "But I know, it's very difficult to write CB, especially after the whole 3.17 mess, lol. I still would very much like for Chuck to explain his thinking when orchestrating the IP plot, but I get that that is basically impossible (because the whole thing was ridic irrational and OOC)."_

It's impossible for me to write why too, because I myself don't even understand why Chuck did what he did! It was so OOC all right! The whole thing just came out of nowhere – but I suppose after being betrayed by his mother like that, he'd go a bit … wacko? And he was rather desperate at that point – he was so determined to prove that he was better than his father than he completely lost his mind and arranged the indecent proposal.

That's the only thing I could come up with. Chuck went a little nuts for a while after the whole bad mamma incident. ;)

Thanks, folks, for your reviews! I hope to update with a longer, meatier installment tomorrow. Can you believe we only have two more weeks till we get new episodes? Plan to finish this little tale by then!


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

I'm sorry.

Blair Waldorf was starting to hate that word.

She stood at the front of the church, "helping" the Humpreys and the Van der Woodsens greet well wishers, and after the 10th "I'm sorry for your loss", she was getting tired of having people feel sorry for her. She was so tired that she didn't even mind the sight of Jenny Humphrey standing next to Eric right across her on the stairs.

Lily was cool and composed as usual, but unlike how she was at Bart's funeral, Blair knew that behind her dark glasses were eyes red from tears. Serena lay a supporting hand on her mother's shoulder every opportunity she could, while Rufus spoke quietly to a stoic, pale-faced Eric who barely reacted. Dan. Well, Dan was just as awkward as ever. He probably felt like he should belong somewhere else.

I'm sorry, said Dr Harding when the news came. We did everything we could.

I'm sorry, he said again, because in the end, it just wasn't enough.

I'm sorry, said Dan Humphrey. "I knew he meant a lot to you."

Abruptly, she turned away from the latest well wisher and marched into the church. The large hall was barely filled, and most of the attendees preferred to sit as far away from the coffin as possible.

Only one person dared. He sat at the first row, his head buried in his hands. He didn't react at all when she stood by his side.

Nate was there when it happened. He said that Chuck finally woke up and Nate had been overjoyed, thinking that Chuck had finally emerged from the illness, ready to take on the land of the living again. Instead, Chuck just smiled, said Nate. And then, he was just gone.

That didn't make sense. No one just woke up and died like that, she thought.

"Nate," she said shortly.

He finally looked up. He didn't look as if he slept at all. His stubble was just a step away from being a beard, and his eyes were bloodshot and dull.

"Hey, Blair," he said almost casually. Judging from the whiff of alcohol she caught, he'd been drinking himself to a stupor.

And then he said something strange. "He's waiting for you, Blair." He gestured clumsily at the coffin. She stared at the pearl-white box perched on the marble altar and flinched.

"I ..." she trailed off.

"You didn't get to say goodbye. When you heard that he died, you just stayed away. This is your last chance to see him before ..." he looked away, unable to finish the sentence.

She found herself walking towards the coffin, and when she was finally there, looking down at the thing that was formerly Chuck Bass, she couldn't stop the flood of despair and agony that flooded her being.

The caretakers had managed to wipe away the traces of illness from his face with a few deft strokes and well-chosen colours of make-up. Gone was the sallow skin, the lines of pain and the gauntness of his last few days on Earth.

They did good work.

She reached out with shaking hand to touch his cheek and felt the icy cold of his skin through her thin, black gloves. She shuddered, pulled her hand away and closed her eyes, shuddering and sobbing softly. She didn't know how long she just stood there with her eyes close and trying hard to stifle her sobs. When she finally managed to gather herself, she told herself to turn away lest she lose control again, but she found herself looking at him again.

She frowned when she saw the marks on his skin. Did she somehow managed to smudge the make-up the caretakers had painstakingly applied on him? She gently brushed the smudges away, only to frown at the white powder that came away on her black gloves. Confused, she returned her gaze to his face. The smudges were gone – only to be replaced by a ghastly finger-shaped indent, like someone had scooped a piece of his ashy-white flesh out.

She stumbled back in shock, but she watched in horror as the indent grew deeper and deeper, and she heard a sound – like sand running through a funnel. And she watched, horrified, as the indent became a hole, and the side of his face caved in and collapsed into shapeless white ash, until all that was left in the coffin was ash.

Blair awoke with a strangled cry. But even awake she could feel the icy horror and numbing despair of seeing Chuck in the coffin, disintegrating into ash.

She lay in the bed, frozen, for long, breathless moments, scrambling around desperately in her mind trying to figure out if his death was a dream or reality. Then, she heard the shower running, recognised the room in the Aquitaine that she and Serena were sharing and closed her eyes in relief.

Shakily, she sat up and then got to her less-than-steady feet. Quietly, she walked to her luggage and quickly took off her nightgown and struggled with shaking hands to put on a pair of slacks and a blouse. She grabbed her handbag, and ran out, determined to see for herself that Chuck was really alive.

**GG – GG – GG**

It definitely wasn't something you'd like to see first thing in the morning.

Especially after stumbling home from the hospital around 2am in the morning, trying your darnest to sleep but failing, and then giving up at 6am by rolling out of bed so that you could head to the hospital after breakfast. And that is if you have any stomach for breakfast.

Lily van der Woodsen wasn't the sort of woman given to extreme displays of emotion. Cool, collected, composed – trained to be the perfect WASP princess from the crib – she was told that it was her destiny to be looked up to, so she needed to look the part. At least, that's what her mother said for as long as she could remember. Lily may say that she no longer bought such silly aristocratic talk, but one can't erase decades of conditioning no matter what their belief.

For Lily, only two things could crack her perfect composure: Rufus and her children.

Today, she may just add lousy journalism to the list.

"I'm going to sue that paper so hard that none of their editors will keep their jobs when I'm done with them!" She threw the offending publication to the ground so forcefully that it scattered apart. Rufus rubbed his bleary eyes, picked up the pieces and immediately saw a photo of Chuck – the usual publicity photo Bass Industries gave out – on the front page..

"Boy billionaire in critical condition" it said in bold letters on the front page of _The Manhattan Gazette._ Underneath the headline: Chuck Bass, heir to Bass Industries, admitted to Mercy General yesterday after collapsing from "mysterious illness".

Rufus didn't understand what Lily was so upset about until he saw a quote towards the end: _A confidential source says that Bass, a known 'party boy', regularly took drugs and is a known alcoholic. "This was a party gone too far, that's all."_

"Oh," he said.

And it went on to quote other sources – a patched up collage of anonymous "insiders" – about what "actually" went on that day. It was total bunk, of course, especially since it involved a cast of hookers, midget strippers and if you can believe it, clowns. It's hard to believe that people would buy this, but this "journalism" was not totally unexpected for a publication of the Gazette's "high standards".

"No one's going to take this seriously, Lily. It's the _Gazette_, after all," he said, tossing the paper aside like the trash it was.

"No, but it will start _something_. Soon, _The New York Times_, _The Wall Street Journal _and God knows who else is going to poke around and ask questions about his past, and people are going to say, 'Well, there's no smoke if there's no fire'. And then there's _that _blog –"

"Lily –"

"And I have a sneaky feeling I know who this 'confidential source' is," she said tersely.

"Jack Bass?" He wouldn't be surprised if Chuck's uncle would stoop to such low levels of immaturity and pettiness.

She made a sound of disgust. "I've already received three calls from members of the board, asking about 'damage control'. There's _no _damage to control, Rufus! He's sick! Everyone gets sick, only he was unfortunate enough to get shot _and _get sick! God, I'm babbling," she said morosely as she sank into a sofa.

Rufus didn't know what to say. All he could do was sit next to her and wrap his arms around her. She welcomed it, and sank into his embrace.

"I don't want to deal with this now, Rufus. Not when Charles is … _like this_. I should be by his side instead of dealing with the press and stuffy board members who are more worried about their wallets than Charles' well-being."

"Talk to the press. Give them an ultimatum. Tell them you don't tolerate such idiocy. Isn't that what interim heads do?" he was only half kidding, but Lily's eyes lit up. She looked at him in wonder.

"Of course. You're right, Rufus. And I'm going to call the lawyers too."

He grinned. "You're hot when you're authoritative, did I tell you that?"

She laughed and gave him a slow, lingering kiss.

**GG – GG – GG**

**Aquitaine Hotel**

_What's this I hear about a party gone south? It seems that a certain Bass-hat has ended up somewhere he shouldn't be, though with all the nurses in short skirts – it may not be such a bad deal for our favourite Upper East Side manwhore. – XOXO, Gossip Girl_

"That bitch!"

It was the roar heard around the Upper East Side, but it was _not _yelled by the usual suspect. Serena, who was carefully nursing a cup of bad coffee, was startled enough to nearly splash it on the white Christian Dior blouse she bought just a few months ago in Paris. Oddly, Dorota saw it fit to pack all the clothes she bought from that fateful trip where she found Chuck, which meant that she had mostly cocktail dresses and formal clothes to wear to the hospital.

"We have to do something about this, Serena!" Eric said hotly, shaking his cell before her face.

Serena, who still haven't gotten over seeing her brother burst into flames like that, batted it away and sighed. "Eric, we tried taking down Gossip Girl two years ago, and look what happened. We don't need her drama right now, and Chuck certainly doesn't need his secrets out – especially now."

"What, are you talking the incident in Prague?"

"The gunshot wound? _Yes_. I mean, I don't think Gossip Girl knows, but this is really personal to Chuck, and it's better to be safe. The last thing we need right now is papparazzi hanging around the hospital."

"I think you may be a little late, Serena." Nate strolled into the living room, finally out of his rumpled suit and now dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans. After they've all dragged a reluctant Blair back to the Aquitaine, he managed to get an hour of sleep and freshen up, but he still looked as if he needed a few more hours of shut eye. Blair had enough foresight to book a three-room suite for them, but they spent most of the time sitting in the hall, staring at each numbly and sleepless with worry. Serena suspected that Blair didn't even sleep.

He switched on the television, and they watched, transfixed, at the sight of reporters swarming the front of Mercy Hospital.

"Oh, just great," Eric grumbled.

"Does Blair know?" she said, alarmed.

"Serena. Blair already left," Eric said.

"What?"

"She left when you were showering, Serena," Eric said.

Serena quickly grabbed her coat and handbag.

"Hey, Serena wait – it's mom!" Eric suddenly yelled.

They watched as Lily, with Rufus at her side, stepped in front of the camera, looking regal yet positively incensed.

"This morning, a certain publication insinuated that my step-son, Charles, was in this hospital because of drugs. As chairman of Bass Industries, I think the report was scurrilous and irresponsible and so far from the truth that they will be hearing from my lawyers soon," she said tersely.

"Yay, mom," Serena said softly. Now, if only she could take down Gossip Girl too….

"The truth – and I will repeat this once only – is that Charles was admitted to the hospital because of a serious infection. He nearly died yesterday because of this ..." her voice wobbled, then she took a deep breath. " … and to have some irresponsible reporter libel him while he is lying in a hospital bed recovering is more than I can stand. Now, I would appreciate it if the media would give us space – as a family – to attend to Charles in private. That is all, thank you."

She turned away from the cameras and ignored the chorus of questions and together with Rufus and an entourage of intimidating people in suits – guards? – behind her blocking their way, she entered the hospital.

"I think it's time we join them, don't you?" Serena said.

"You're getting no argument from me," Eric said as he hurried to the lift.

**GG – GG – GG**

The ICU nurse took pity on her and allowed her to enter his room 15 minutes before visiting hours officially began.

The first thing she noticed was how _noisy _it was in his room. Beeps intersped with the hiss of the respirator. Yet, amidst all this electronic noise was a deafening stillness that she felt desperate to banish. So, she spoke to him as she watched his chest rise and fall in a perfectly timed, mechanical rhythm.

"You won't believe the paparazzi camped outside this place," she said, brushing his hair absently. "I thought they came out from the cracks in the sewers only when someone got arrested or had sex with a minor."

She frowned. "Oh wait, you did do that," she said lightly.

Nothing. Just the beep-hiss of the machines.

"This isn't the way I pictured how we'd spent our lives a year after that day when you said I love you, Chuck."

She paused, watching him breathe.

She shook her head, and her vision blurred as her tears reemerged. "Chuck, it's been nearly seven hours since your surgery. Isn't it about time you just open your eyes and stop torturing me?"

Listen to her. She sounded like some crazy person. Which was fitting, because she felt half way there already.

She leaned her aching head against her hand.

"I can't do this," she said softly.

Blair sniffed, steeled herself and reached out for his hand.

"Please wake up, Chuck," she said softly. "Because I may hate you but not having you in my world … it's just not going to be the same."

No reaction.

"Do you hear me?" she whispered softly.

Somewhere inside, she hoped he heard her.

"I am going to stay here, by your side, until you open your eyes Chuck Bass," she said, blinking away her tears. "Because you're not getting away that easily. Do you hear me? You're not going to get away easy. Not from Blair Waldorf."

Sighing, she clutched his hand in hers and leaned her forehead against their clasped hands.

**GG – GG – GG**

**Notes**: Man, sorry for being late with this update! Work has been insane.

**Annablake**: You know, I have to say season 2 was a turn off for me because of the whole "will they say I love you" thing. I don't like being toyed with, but after a second viewing I understood why they did what they did, but both were so incredibly immature when it came to handling it! But the crazy storylines: Nate 3.0, Ellen, made me wonder: What the eff happened to the writers of the glorious season one? As a fanfic writer I try my best to reconcile these stories and write the characters believably, but it's sure tough!

But I'm a sucker for romantic declarations, and how Chuck did it in the end was rather perfect. And that smile! He just doesn't smile enough :)

_miss-Tami-bass wrote: Wait...what does Jenny mean by "she(Jenny) wants to 'know' Chuck better?"_

Ah, I don't remember writing such a sentence in the story. She only told Eric that she wanted Chuck to get better, and she wanted to know if he knew about her that at least. She was more concerned about what Eric thought of her than anything else. Hope this helps.

Thank you folks, for the beautiful reviews. Many made me think! Keep them coming folks.

My, how time flies. The premiere is fast approaching and my deadline for this story is fast arriving as well. Wish me luck!


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

It seems that her mother left out one important detail from the conversation she had with Dr Harding after Chuck's operation.

Like, how he was not out of the woods yet.

Although Chuck had graduated from a ventilator to a nasal cannula in the 29 hours since his operation, he had not stirred awake even once and more worryingly, his fever had remained. And although his temperature wasn't as dangerously high as before, from the frowns and whispers the ICU nurses and Dr Harding occasionally exchanged, Serena could see that they were worried about it.

"I thought the surgery was supposed to fix it," Blair said in a low whisper to Dr Harding. Her tone was almost accusatory. She, Serena, Nate and Lily were in the far corner of Chuck's room in the ICU. Lily, who was standing next to his bed, was brushing his hair absently with her fingers, a distant look in her eyes.

"The surgery saved his life – he was very close to septic shock when he came in," he replied patiently. "Still, the next 48 hours is going to be very crucial. He's on strong wide spectrum antibiotics now and it is our hope that the fever will break tomorrow. Now, we'll have to monitor him carefully for signs of hemorrhage, and if his fever doesn't improve by the third day..."

This got Lily's attention. She cast Dr Harding a worried look.

"What? What will happen?" Blair said impatiently.

"Then the infection could have spread … and we may have to go in again," he said gravely.

Serena swallowed nervously. "Is he … Can he go through another procedure like that?"

Dr Harding didn't answer immediately, but when he did, his voice was quiet and grave. "We'd prefer that he not."

Lily closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath. She placed a hand to her forehead, rubbing it distractedly. On top of dealing with the uncertainty of Chuck's condition, she had to also handle the nervous board of directors at Bass Industries and manage the overly curious media parked outside Mercy's. Serena wished there was something she could do to help, but knowing her Mom, Lily would probably deny that she was having a difficult time and handle everything herself.

Blair, meanwhile, pulled at her hair unconsciously – a nervous habit that Serena hadn't seen Blair indulge in since the sixth grade. She was a mess; Blair was always so immaculate. After all, her shield when she went out into the world was her seeming perfection. And Blair was far from her ideal right now. Her hair was a disheveled mess held simply together in a pony tail. She had carelessly thrown on a sweater and a pair of jeans when she had hurried to the hospital this morning.

However, before she could pull Blair aside and encourage her to leave the room with her, her Mom beat her to it.

"Honey, let's get something in you," she said.

Blair gave Lily a too-bright smile. "I'm fine, I –"

"Need to be fed," Lily finished for her. "You've been here all day, and you've not eaten a bite. The last thing I want is for Eleanor to have a fit when you collapse. So, you're coming with me to the cafeteria," she said sternly.

She nodded reluctantly and allowed Lily to lead her away.

**GG – GG – GG**

Gently, she adjusted Chuck's blankets and placed his hand – carefully so as to not jostle the needles imbedded in them – under it. Not because he needed all this – he had not moved an inch since the nurse carefully adjusted his position an hour ago – but because she felt the need to be useful. The nurse had gently turned Chuck's head to one side, so he now looked more like a man in the deep throes of sleep instead of looking like one of the patients in the coma ward.

It was strange to see Chuck being manipulated like a marionette, but the nurse said that this was to prevent pressure sores … there was just so much that went into taking care of a sick person that she'd realise. And to see someone she knew at the end of such meticulous care made her feel relieved and utterly useless at the same time.

"I think he looks better now," she said, turning back to look at Nate who sat next to Chuck's bed.

He didn't respond, or even bother to look up from the magazine he was reading.

Serena pursed her lips, forced the anger away from her face, and sat next to him.

More silence.

She cleared her throat. "So, are you taking leave from Columbia this week?"

The only movement from Nate was a slow sliding of his blue eyes towards her. Then it slid back to the pages of the magazine. _Flick_. He turned a page.

Serena stifled a sigh and crossed her arms. She tried hard not to look bothered, but it was impossible when Nate was acting like this. If he did answer her or react to her comments, it was by turning a page of a magazine with a sharp, explosive flick. She had a near-irresistible urge to rip that rag from his fingers and stomp on it.

Funny how when things return almost to normal old habits resurface. Like how Nate suddenly remembered that he hated her and refused to look or even talk to her.

Before, they were distracted by Chuck's life-and-death situation and had instinctively put their cold war on hold to join forces to save their good friend's life. But now, with nothing to do but to wait for Chuck to emerge from his illness, they had nothing but time on their hands, which meant time to remember what they did to each other.

The persistent _beep beep _of the heart monitor was making the silence between the two of them more and more obvious with each infuriating beep. While Nate seemed content – satisfied, even – to ignore her, Serena felt an itch inside of her that was building to a crescendo.

Finally, frustrated, she said out loud: "Can we stop this already?"

He frowned angrily at her. "What? I haven't even said a word."

"That's precisely _it_. You've not said anything to me since I returned from Paris!"

"I am pretty sure I said more than a few words to you, Serena," he said darkly.

"You know what I mean!" Serena hissed in frustration.

He shot her a look of disbelief.

"Are we doing _this_? Now? With Chuck lying right in front of us seriously ill thanks to a bullet wound, which, by the way you decided that we didn't need to know about?"

"_He _didn't want you to know, okay? I'm getting tired of you and Blair making me out to be the bad guy here. And don't change the subject, Nate. I saw those pictures of you. _I _should be the one angry at you," she said bitterly.

He laughed in disbelief.

"How do you think it made me feel to receive pictures of you partying up with a couple of strippers while I was in Paris?" she said angrily.

"I don't know, maybe as bad as how I felt when you decided to break up with me despite cheating on me with Dan?"

"It was a kiss, Nate! But you slept with whore after whore after whore, and Gossip Girl took pleasure in texting me all that information while I was in Paris, by the way!"

"Good, I'm glad she did," he said bitterly. "And it's not as if you didn't enjoy your share of men in Paris."

"I'm not going to just lie back and take it, am I?"

"Then stop trying to be the one on the higher moral ground," he snapped.

"Is this your idea of revenge? Do you enjoy hurting me that much?" She felt mortified when tears pricked her eyes.

Suddenly, they heard a sharp "shh" which made them glance up. An ICU nurse adjusting Chuck's IV and giving them a look of sharp disapproval.

"I've had enough of this," he snapped. He tossed the magazine violently to the floor and marched away.

She wasn't going to let him get away with it this time. For weeks, she pandered to his lousy moods, his infuriating immaturity and him flaunting his latest female acquisition before her face. But his little petty revenge was getting tiresome. So, she followed him out doggedly until he stopped at a vending machine somewhere near a waiting room outside the ICU.

He scowled when she saw him approaching, then impatiently pressed a button. Apparently, it didn't produce the results he wanted. His face twisted in anger, then he hit the machine so hard that it rocked.

"Hey!" she called out.

And then he kicked it.

Hurriedly, looking sheepishly at the now-alarmed people waiting in the area, she grabbed his hand. He quickly flung it aside.

"Let go of me," he hissed. His eyes flared with deep, dangerous rage, but she just grew more furious at his audacity.

"Or _you'll _what?" she challenged, her voice a low hiss.

Almost at once, the anger seeped from his eyes, and it was as if he suddenly deflated. He ran a hand through his hair, and without a word, marched off.

Again she followed him, and he stopped in an empty corridor where he slid down the wall and sat on the floor, his face leaning heavily against his hands.

Seeing him this way, Serena felt the fight leave her almost immediately.

"Nate?" she called out softly.

"Goddamnit Serena, will you just leave me alone already?" he muttered, his face still in his hands.

She just sat next to him and didn't say a word.

"You're right," she said after a long silence. "This isn't the right time to bring up the mess that is our lives."

He sighed and leaned his head against the wall.

"And you're right," he said quietly. "I wanted to hurt you as badly as I could."

Another long silence.

"What if I caused it?" he suddenly said.

She frowned, confused. "What are you talking about?"

He let out a bitter laugh. "The day before we … found him like that. I was on his case about Jenny. I railed at him for half an hour, and didn't even notice how _sick _he looked. If I'd noticed, really saw things, I could have dragged him to the hospital before it got worse. Instead, I thought, 'Chuck's hungover again. How predictable.' It's all my fault," he said, his lips in a thin, bitter line.

"Nate. You know that's crazy," she said.

"Is it?" he said sharply. "I was so busy screwing every woman I saw to notice anything, wasn't I?"

She flinched at the reminder of his flagrant womanising, but steeled herself. "You didn't have all the facts. And yes, you don't have to remind me that it's all my fault."

He laughed shortly. "You know what? I know Chuck well enough to know that he'll make things difficult for you if you did break your promise."

"He threatened to leave. And the last thing I wanted was for him to disappear. I did come up with a plan which involved you and Blair tying him to a chair with duct tape and bringing my Mom in for some intervention though."

The image of that made Nate chuckle. Serena smiled wryly.

"But ..." she sighed. "Chuck … something changed him after he was shot, Nate. I can't describe it but breaking his trust would've been bad. He was brittle, like glass that was about to break. But … maybe I should've let it break, especially since it could save his life," she sniffed as tears threatened to fall. "Oh God, what if he died, and it's all my fault because I didn't tell Mom sooner? Mom would've hired bodyguards and strong armed him into a hospital. Sure, he'd be pissed off but at least – "

"Now, you're doing it."

He sighed. "I think we can both agree, that playing 'what ifs' is not going to get us anywhere."

She nodded.

"It's all fucking screwed up. We're all so fucking screwed up," he muttered, staring at the ceiling.

That, she could agree with.

"Nate," she said quietly. "I didn't break up with you because I didn't love you enough."

She could feel him stiffen beside her, but pressed on.

"I did it because … I've hurt so many people in my life, Nate. And so many men that loved me that … I really needed to know why I was doing what I was doing before I broke your heart so badly that you'll stop loving me. But I did it anyway. I'm sorry," she said softly.

He didn't respond.

"Please say something," she said in a small voice.

"I think … we have something in common." He gave her a weak smile. "I think we're really lousy at this 'relationships' thing."

She laughed through her tears and sniffed again.

"So, what do we do now?" she asked.

He looked at her pensively. "I don't know. I guess we'll figure it out eventually," he said.

"That sounds doable," she said. "Truce?"

"Truce," he agreed. Then he lifted himself off the floor and extended a hand to her.

She took it, and he helped her up. But it wasn't as smooth as she hoped and she stumbled and fell into his arms. It felt natural, at that moment, to just lean against him and wrap her arms around him. She half expected him to push her away, but he didn't. Instead, he returned her embrace, and sighed into her hair.

"Let's stay like this for a moment," he said.

"Okay," she said softly and leaned her head against his shoulder.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

At first there was darkness, and then a sliver of light as his eyelids slowly opened. In his semi-lucid state, few things registered; like the fact that his room was flooded with the amber rays of the setting sun, or the _hiss woosh _of the nasal cannula that was dutifully pumping oxygen into his lungs or even the fact that he was soaked in sweat because his fever had just broken. All he saw were the tears running down Blair Waldorf's anguished face. Chuck wondered if he would get to talk to her for once before the dream ended.

When he was recuperating from his gunshot wound in Prague, he often dreamt that Blair was at his side, waiting for him to wake up. But like all romantic fantasies, it dissipated when reality intruded. When he woke up, she was never there. Instead, all he saw was the simple, paint-chipped window that overlooked the small alcove garden next to his room in the hospital, or the middle-aged ICU ward nurse Anezka, who was assigned to him because she spoke good English.

The last thing he always saw in the dream were her eyes, dewy with tears. And she would ask him sadly: "Why, Chuck? Why did you do it?"

He never got to answer her.

So, when he finally awoke four days, three hours and 25 minutes after nearly dying in his bed, Chuck Bass thought that this was another one of those dreams because Blair was at his bedside, looking at him with teary eyes.

She reached out and touched him on the forehead … and he marveled at how real this dream seemed because he could actually feel her fingers brushing his hair. He wanted to reach out and take her hand but they seemed pinned at his sides.

And then she did something she never did in any of the dreams.

She smiled, lifted his hand in hers and kissed it. He hesitated … then wrapped his fingers weakly around hers, savouring the too-real warmth of her hands.

But laughed when he did so, but her tears did not stop flowing. She kissed his hand again, and caressed his face, fixing her teary eyes to his.

It took all the strength he had, but he had to know.

"Why are you crying?" he asked worriedly. His voice was unrecognisable to his ears – a breathy whisper that he could barely hear himself. But it seemed to be enough.

"Because you're here," she said simply.

He didn't understand her answer, but her smile and her presence set him at ease. For once, the dream didn't end with a haunting reminder of his sin, and he was glad for that small mercy.

He closed his eyes and allowed sleep to take him away again.

**GG – GG – GG**

She watched his eyelids close, and his breathing even out. He was still horribly pale, but – she was sure she wasn't imagining it – it seemed as if he had more colour today.

Nate stirred behind her and she turned to see him blink sleepy eyes at her. Seeing her tears, he shot up in his chair, a look of alarm on his bedraggled features.

"Chuck, is he –" he rasped.

"He woke up," she said, smiling. "Even said something."

His look of alarm melted quickly into relief. Stiffly, he got up and walked to Chuck's bedside.

"He's sweating." he said with a frown.

"His fever broke a few minutes ago. See?" she reached out and touched Chuck's forehead. "It's cool."

Nate did the same, and sighed in relief. "I'll call the nurse. Don't want him to catch a cold on top of … everything he has now."

She nodded. When Nate was finally out of the room, Blair lay her head wearily beside his and placed a hand on his cheek.

"You stayed," she whispered.

**GG – GG – GG**

The pain was what startled him at first. And memory stirred ... of that piercing pain in his back, of losing control of his limbs and helplessly watching his blood flow out from him to the cobbled streets … Of waking up in a strange hospital with nurses and doctors babbling at him in a strange language, until a few days later when he was strong enough to say something in English.

He remembered his bed in Prague far too well. It was narrow and simple, the bedsheets coarse and unrefined … but the pain … yes it was very much like the pain now, though he did remember it being far, far worse then. He recalled how he sometimes bit his lip when it got too bad because he didn't want to make a pathetic sound. Because Chuck Bass wasn't weak, despite what his father insisted over and over again.

He opened his eyes, or at least tried to, and it took longer than he'd like.

The room swam into view.

Next to return was the sense of touch … he felt the cold bedsheets beneath him, the prick of several needles from an IV drip on the back of right hand. And the all-consuming, overwhelming weakness that weighed his sore limbs down.

And then he realised that someone was holding his hand. Puzzled, he glanced down to see the graceful fingers of a woman's hand encircle his. A mop of dark hair … he missed running his hand through it …

Blair had fallen asleep on her vigil; her head pillowed on one arm, the other hand clenched around his.

It was then that he realised that there were others in the room too. He squinted with some great difficulty and saw that Nate was curled uncomfortably in the armchair next to his bed. Next to him, leaning heavily against the wall, was Eric, looking decidedly awkward in a plastic chair.

He heard voices outside, and he refocused again … two blonde women, talking to a doctor. Both fashionably dressed, one older … Serena … Lily.

They were all here.

He closed his eyes, and swallowed, overwhelmed by the sudden surge of emotion and disorientation he felt.

It took his mind some time to sort through the jumbled memories in his head. At first he thought that he was still in Prague, and that they had somehow found their way to him. Then memory reasserted itself, and he remembered Paris … Serena finding out … boarding the plane at de Gaulle, Blair's anguished and furious face when she saw him in the first class cabin. New York, he was in New York … he was supposed to attend the gala. He fell asleep….

He opened his eyes once more, and Lily happened to look at him just then. Her eyes lit up when she saw that he was awake and she smiled like he had never seen her smile before. She quickly came into the room and then to his side.

"Charles," she said breathlessly, then laughed gladly. She reached out and lay a hand on his forehead.

He felt Blair stir, then lift bleary eyes to him. She smiled immediately, and then gripped his hand. A few moments later, Nate, Eric, and Serena, almost as one, appeared behind Lily and Blair – all of them with looks of relief on their faces.

He didn't know how to respond to their collective happiness. He could only stare mutely at them, confused and overwhelmed.

Almost as if he sensed this, Dr Harding said, "Perhaps we should give Mr Bass some room. I have to examine him," he said.

Just then, Blair's eyes widened just slightly, and she gave him an unreadable look. Then, she leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. He didn't want her to go, and tried to stop her, but he could barely lift his hand. So he watched her walk out with the rest, with her giving him that same unreadable look at him again, and finally, Chuck knew what that meant.

Her walls were coming back up again.

Before he could deal with that, a swift spike of pain from his torso made him gasp. Chuck, for the first time, became aware of the hot centre of pain there and fliched as Dr Harding gently examined the area.

"Are you in pain?" he asked.

He nodded.

Lily, whom the doctor had allowed to stay, gave Dr Harding a worried look.

"On the scale of 1 to 10 …?"

He thought about it for a moment. "Eight," he rasped.

"I'll have the nurse give you some painkillers soon. But, good news: Your surgical incision is healing nicely, and the infection appears to be beaten," he said.

_Infection? _He wondered, confused.

Dr Harding finished his examination a few minutes later, told him he'll be back, and then it was just Lily by his side. She sat next to him in the chair Blair was in, and brushed his tangled hair away from his face. The gesture was so alien to him that he froze, but he didn't move to stop her – not that he could, anyway, weak as he was.

"You gave us quite a scare, Charles," Lily said softly.

"What happened?" Because from the feel of it, it looked as if he had acquired a new scar. And aside from vague and confusing memories of Nate in an ambulance, he had no idea how he got in this room or became the resident of yet another hospital.

"You were very sick. They had to operate on you ... The doctor said that it had something to do with you being shot...?" she gave him a questioning look.

He fell silent, guilty at the realisation that Lily had found out about his secret in the most dramatic and alarming way possible.

"I didn't want you to worry," he finally said. Not that his plan worked in the end.

She smiled in response. "I don't blame you, Charles. Of all people, I understand why one keeps secrets. I just hope that you know that you can come to your family when you need help, and that you can count on me to care," she said.

"I'm sorry." Because he wasn't the sort to seek help. Especially from family.

She squeezed his hand gently. "I'm just glad that you're awake, and that you're recovering. Now, put aside the things that went on before. You need to rest, Charles," she murmured, then kissed him on the forehead.

Without much of a struggle, he obeyed.

**GG – GG – GG**

He looked much, much better now, Nate thought as he studied Chuck's pale, slumbering face. It has been two days since Chuck woke up in the ICU. They had removed the nasal cannula and moved him to a more private room, and that's a few steps up in Nate's books, an indication that Chuck was going to be fine, and that soon, he'll be his old self again. He hadn't been that Chuck for months now.

He frowned. But maybe he won't be that Chuck anymore. Getting shot could change you, he supposed. And he had only thought about the physical effects of the gunshot … what about the psychological trauma? Was that why Chuck holed himself away for weeks? Because he couldn't deal with the trauma of being shot?

He sighed and shook his head. There was just no point worrying about all that. One step at a time, he chided himself.

Chuck spent most of his time asleep, but his family – Serena, Eric and Lily – were never far away. They took turns watching over him, which Chuck said – in a brief moment when he woke up yesterday – was unnecessary, and which they ignored.

Just then, Chuck stirred, shifting weakly in his bed. Nate leaned forward eagerly, watching his best friend intently as his eyes flickered open, wandered around dazedly and finally settled on him.

"Hey," Chuck whispered. His voice was stronger now, not papery-thin and frail like when he woke up.

"Hey, yourself," he said. "You need anything? Water … food … girls?"

Chuck's pale lips stretched into a smile at his lame attempt at humour. "I think girls will be off my wish list for a while," he said wryly.

Besides, thought Nate, he only wanted _one _girl. Who, typical of the fairer sex with their mysterious and unpredictable ways, is now staying away – and this after spending days grafted to Chuck's side.

Nate just smiled and poured him a cup of water. Chuck stubbornly insisted on holding the cup himself, and Nate watched worriedly as the cup shook dangerously in his unsteady hands. Nate quickly took the cup away when Chuck was done with it, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Lily said that you found me," Chuck said after a brief silence.

"Yeah … and you scared a few years off me. _Don't _do that again," he said sternly.

"I'll try," Chuck responded, smiling thinly.

Then, Chuck's eyes fell on the empty seat beside his, and Nate saw his dark eyes go blank. It didn't take a mind reader to know what he was thinking about. Nate sighed, then tentatively said: "She was here all the time. She never left your side."

Chuck averted his eyes, as if embarrassed that he was caught doing something that he shouldn't.

"She still cares for you, Chuck," Nate added awkwardly.

Chuck was unresponsive for a while, then he whispered, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being here," he said.

"Hey. I'll always be here for you, pal."

Chuck gave him another weak smile.

Usually, Chuck was an expert at masking what he truly felt. But now, with all his defenses lowered, Nate could see the emotions plainly in his best friend's eyes, and he realised that Chuck didn't believe what he said. But before he could say anything further, Chuck forced a smile and asked, "So, what's new on Gossip Girl?"

"Are you kidding me? The first thing you ask about the outside world after waking up from a four-day coma is Gossip Girl?" he remarked incredulously.

"What can I say? I'm in the mood for something irreverent," he said, smiling.

Nate chuckled, whipped out his phone and decided that Chuck needed this more than reassurances that he'd always be there for him. Chuck would probably gag at the smarminess of it all.

"Take a pick: Scandals or unexpected hook ups?"

Chuck lifted his eyebrows. "Surprise me."

Nate grinned. "Okay, you have Nelly Yuki. You won't believe what she got into at Yale. And it involves You Tube, and Victoria Secrets."

He loaded the video for Chuck, whose eyes widened, then sparkled with mirth as he watched Nelly Yuki, inebriated, reciting lines from A Midsummer's Night's Eve … in barely-there lingerie.

"Is this some kind of … long-distance Waldorf smack down?"

"_No_. Believe it or not, Nelly uploaded it herself. She's now into 'experimental art'."

Chuck's eyes widened, and then he chuckled, shaking his head as Nelly theatrically took out an assortment of vegetables – a turnip, a carrot … and a banana – from a box.

"Will I have to wash my eyes after this, Nathaniel?"

"Just you wait. You've not seen anything yet."

Nate grinned as he watched his best friend chuckle at the action on the screen, feeling relieved that his sadness was pushed back just for the moment. Now, if only Serena could get through Blair somehow.

**GG – GG – GG**

**Notes: **Ah, I so wanted to finish the story before the premiere of Gossip Girl, but I wanted to do the last few chapters justice as they're so very important. Speaking of which, did you enjoy the first episode of season four? I so did! I feel like we're going to be in for an enjoyable and exciting season.

Have received your reviews, and I thank you for them. Though I'm not sure what to think about the troll reviews, however. Guys, all I can say is that constructive criticisms are welcomed, remarks about the story not going the way you hope is something I can't really do anything about. For that, I hope you can write a fanfic of your own that I hope to read in the near future.

Anyway, about the reviewer who said that the story is more about Chuck than Chuck & Blair (apologies, FF is down and I can't get your name!), let me elaborate that I wrote this story with the full intention that Chuck and Blair are the main driving forces. I have to admit, however, that my story isn't your typical CB fanfic, nor is it – dare I say – a typical Gossip Girl fanfic because I include most of the characters in my story because I feel they're all integral. I like seeing how they interact, and in After Paris, they are reacting and being forced to confront some of their issues because of what's happening to Chuck and between him and Blair. And another reason why I think this is a CB story – I wrote this for the sole purpose of reuniting them ;) Now, I won't spoil you anymore.

Four more chapters, and it's a wrap, folks!


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